


Family

by hellostarlight20



Series: We Are Never Alone [12]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, NSFW Ten/Rose loving, Pregnancy, Romance, Season/Series 04, Ten/Rose arguing, Ten/Rose smut, This is my own take on pretty much everything, This isn't a season rewrite with Rose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-11 21:24:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 52,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4452905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellostarlight20/pseuds/hellostarlight20
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Family: Call it a clan, call it a network, call it a tribe, call it a family. Whatever you call it, whoever you are, you need one. (Quote by Jane Howard)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The Doctor hadn’t ever really had a family. Or thought he hadn’t. His friends were his family, even though many left to explore their own lives; they were always the best part of him. But Rose isn’t going anywhere, she’s pregnant with their first child, and now he has one question: How the hell can he possibly keep her safe?

“Jack, please keep me company!” Rose called from the infirmary where she’d been confined for the past eon. “You’re the only sane one left!”

Her words did not have the desired effect. By mutual agreement the Doctor and Martha either ignored her or didn’t hear her. How could they hear anything over the buzz of their own excited medical babble?

Jack looked slightly pale, more than slightly worried, but the smile was all Jack. It eased her a little. Not because she was afraid what the Dynamic Medical Duo had found, but because it was stressful enough being the only human ever to carry a Gallifreyan child.

Rose was all about exploring the great unknown.

This went a little beyond that.

She wanted this child, they both did. They’d talked about it, planned for it, debated the pros and cons (and terrifying fears) and now that she was pregnant, it felt right. Perfect.

“You’ll be all right, Rose,” Jack whispered and took her hand.

“I know,” she said and leaned against him as Jack eased his body onto the long, wide medical bed. It was comfortable, far more so than she imagined a regular hospital bed felt, wide enough for she and Jack to easily fit, and adjustable with the press of a control.

“I’m just tired of being poked and prodded.”

“And to think, this is only the beginning!” Jack grinned at her, that suave smile that had charmed the universe over. The smile softened, his real smile. “You’ll be fine. You called Martha because she’s the best.”

“I know,” Rose repeated. “And I want her to be my doctor. I want you both here for all of it. Pregnancy, birth, growing up. Everything.”

She looked up at Jack as seriously as she could while in the bed, being monitored by very futuristic-looking machines that beeped and flashed without ever touching her, with her husband and her best friend cheerily arguing about the best way to administer bio-nutrients to her throughout her pregnancy.

However long that took.

“I want you here, Jack,” she added softly. “Both of you. We’re done running.”

He kissed her temple, hand tightening around hers. “We will be.” Jack pulled back and promised, “I will be. Always.”

Rose wanted to ask. She wanted to voice the words she’d practiced. She hadn’t told the Doctor, hadn’t mentioned it to anyone. But she wanted to ask Jack to be there for the Doctor after she was gone. Be there for their children.

Jack smiled again, his true smile not the urbane one he greeted everyone with. “I promise, Rose. I’ll always be here.”

Rose swallowed past the lump in her throat and nodded. “Thank you, Jack.”

“Now, have you chosen any names?”

Jack stretched his legs out beside her and they watched the Dynamic Medical Duo hunch over old texts and computer screens, heads bent together as they delved into medical jargon that made her eyes cross.

God she loved her family.

“No.” Rose sighed. “The Doctor wants to name them all Rose.”

Jack just shrugged. “Nice name.”

She elbowed him and he laughed. Grinning, Rose relaxed slightly and rested her head against Jack’s chest.

It’d only been days since she’d verified her pregnancy. Days where they’d made lazy love in the bath or pool or bed or the hidden hollow on Cheem they’d visited a half dozen times since dropping Martha and Jack back on Earth.

“Are you happy, Rose?” he asked.

“Yes.” She swallowed again, that happy bubble of pure joy threatened to overwhelm her. “Very, very happy.”

“Then that’s all that counts. Though I’m hoping for a blonde haired, blue eyed child, myself.”

Rose pulled back and frowned up at him, confused. “Why?”

But Jack just smiled enigmatically. Rose narrowed her eyes at him, but he grinned and laughed and hugged her closer.

Huffing in exasperation, Rose returned her head to his shoulder. “What have you and Martha been up to since Christmas?”

Jack stiffened and tightened his hold around her. Fear fluttered in her stomach and Rose gripped his hand, squeezing it to let him know she was still there.

“Oh you know, the usual. Spying on our employers, destroying alien tech before it falls into the wrong hands. Meeting an old lover with my brother in tow.”

Rose jerked back. She hadn’t even known he’d _had_ a brother. (Him calling the Doctor brother while Chameleon Arched did not count.) Let alone that he was alive. Let alone that he’d somehow managed to find a way to 21st century Earth.

“Jack…”

_Please let Martha have been there. Please._ Rose licked her lips and held Jack’s gaze. He looked away, sniffed loudly. Swallowed hard and took a moment.

“Martha got hurt,” he said quietly. “John and Grey were after me. Revenge. I spent…a long time buried in a field outside Cardiff.”

Bile rose in her throat but she swallowed it down. Buried in a field…how many times had he suffocated? John…the name sounded familiar, something Martha said one day on Broad Oak in 1936 about Jack remembering his past as World War I nightmares. 

“Did…” she licked her lips and tried again. “What happened?”

“I didn’t know he was even alive.” Jack’s voice broke. “I swear I didn’t. I thought he’d died years ago. Another lifetime. Died in the bombings on Boshane.”

“How’d he find you?” she managed.

Jack only shrugged, shook his head. “Grey wanted revenge and John…anyway, Martha found me.” His voice lowered, cracked. “Saved me.”

Rose wrapped his arm around her and offered whatever comfort she could. She wanted to demand details. Ask why Cardiff—what had they been doing in Wales? What had they found there? If anything. How had his brother survived and how had this John found Jack again?

She wanted to change the subject. She wanted to wrap Jack up tight in her arms so he’d never be hurt again.

“Why didn’t you call us?” she demanded but her voice was hoarse and strained.

Jack shrugged again. “You were trying to get pregnant. I didn’t…”

He trailed off but Rose poked him in the chest. “We’re family, Jack. Remember that? _Family!_ ” Her voice hissed between clenched teeth and she watched Jack’s eyes widen. “You call when you need help.”

“And you?” he asked quietly. Calmly. “Will you call when you and the Doctor need help?”

Rose nodded, decisively. “Yes. We’re done running. Family helps family.” She took a deep breath and whispered, “Even when it’s with other family.” 

She swiped her fingers beneath her eyes and wiped the tears away. “I love you, Jack. If you need help, you’re not alone.”

“Sometimes I feel that way,” he admitted and it sounded as if the words were pulled from him. “I look in my future and all I see is a hundred million years of emptiness.”

“God, Jack I’m sorry,” Rose exhaled, breath hitching. Panic and pain and fear and guilt, such heavy guilt it choked her. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what I was doing, I didn’t—”

“It’s not your fault,” he promised, kissing the top of her head and tucking her back against his shoulder. His arms were tight around her and offered her a comfort she eagerly accepted.

“It’s not your fault, Rose. You saved me from the Daleks. You saved me from myself.” He took a deep breath and she felt his chest expand beneath her head. “Even afterwards, when I jumped back and landed in the 1860s looking for you and the Doctor, you saved me. Every situation I found myself in I wondered what you’d do, what he’d do, and I tried to live my life like that.”

“Did you meet anyone?” she asked softly, closing her eyes and trying to imagine that level of loneliness.

No wonder the Doctor traveled with companions.  
No wonder he never stopped moving. (Running.)

“Did you have friends or lovers?”

“A few,” he admitted. “But I had to keep moving. Didn’t want anyone knowing my secret. And then Torchwood—” she felt him shake his head and his grip tightened around her. “You saw them at Broad Oak. How they were. They were willing to put everyone in danger just so they could take me.”

“Must’ve really pissed them off, you disappearing in 1930,” Rose said, trying not to think about 60+ years of living and loneliness.

Jack snorted and she felt him nod. “I’m not a solitary person by nature, but I didn’t want anyone I cared about getting caught in their pursuit of me.”

“You’re worth it, Jack,” Rose said. She pulled back and looked up at him. “You always have been.” She smiled and added with a sly twist of her lips, “Martha thinks you’re worth it.”

“She met my psychotic, murderous brother and equally psychotic ex-lover all in one day.” Jack took in another breath. “She spent three months helping me track them and their target. Helped me stop them.”

Jack’s arms tightened around her and she heard his heart pound erratically beneath her ear. “She holds me every night in a bed she hates because it’s too soft with the lights blazing bright, because I’m afraid of the dark. I’m afraid to wake up in that grave one more time.”

“Jack.” But Rose didn’t know if she said that aloud or thought it. Her throat closed with fear and pain for her friend. She leaned up, wrapped her arms around him, pressed her lips to his cheek. Held him close. Didn’t know what else to do.

“And still,” he whispered hoarsely, “still she agreed to move in with me.”

Rose let him change the subject. He’d obviously spoken to Martha. That was good. That was all that mattered. That he talk with someone. That Martha was there for him. That he wasn’t (hadn’t been) alone.

She tried a grin, felt it widen. “Are you happy, Jack?”

“Right now, Rose.” He looked from her to the Doctor and Martha still talking in low voices and comparing notes, heads bent toward each other in medical bliss. “I’m very, very happy.”

She pressed her lips to his. “I’m glad. All I want is for you to be happy.”

********  
The Doctor crossed his arms over his chest and leveled his best glare at Rose. He didn’t care she smiled up at him with that knowing, loving smile that made his hearts skip. He didn’t care she had submitted to all his and Martha’s tests.

For five hours.

He also didn’t care (mostly didn’t) that she was more than half naked. Her still-flat belly held the barest hint of roundness, of the child growing within her. Standing before him in a very skimpy pair of knickers that rode just beneath her belly and a lacy bra that did more to entice than support, in his considerable opinion, all he wanted to do was take her back to bed.

For the length of her pregnancy. And then some.

What he did care about was Rose in the bathroom that morning, vomiting up every last bit in her stomach as he crouched helplessly behind her only able to hold her hair off her face. She’d been so weak afterwards, he’d had to lift her off the cold tile floor and return her to their bed.

He’d made ginger tea and dry toast, but it’d taken hours for her cheeks to look healthy again. For her eyes to open normally, rather than as if she forced them open just to reassure him. She’d slept and he’d held her, but the sight of her kneeling in front of the toilet still hadn’t diminished.

What had he done to his wife? They’d talked about this: both wanted children, both agreed to alter Rose’s DNA so she could carry their child. But if it meant watching his strong Rose so weak and helpless _on the floor of their bathroom_ , the Doctor could be quite content with this one child.

No matter what he told himself about morning sickness and normality, the frantic fear gripping his movements only knew this was his beloved and she was ill. Sure, she looked fine now, healthy and upright and looking up at him with impossibly deep love in her gaze.

Rose took his hand and squeezed. Their bond hummed brightly and he felt her concern, her love, her understanding. It eased the cold fear around his hearts.

It did not diminish it.

“You are not going,” he said, unmoved. For the fourth time.

“Doctor,” Rose said softly, the edges of exasperation on the word.

She also didn’t dress. It was distracting. And alluring. How was he supposed to think rationally when she stood nearly naked before him?

“They’re our friends and they called for help,” she said and that exasperation magnified. 

“They asked for advice on one little, slightly complicated computer question,” he corrected. For the third time. “Which I can easily do without you stepping one foot out of the TARDIS.”

Damn.  
He hadn’t meant to say that.  
That had been his final argument, the last words to keep her here and then only, _only_ if all else failed and he was truly out of arguments. Which he rarely found himself to be, thank you.

He also didn’t want to lead with that argument because they’d discussed this. Repeatedly. Just last night, in fact. No more running. No more hiding.

But that was before Rose’s debilitating morning sickness. Nine and a half weeks pregnant and he didn’t know how much longer to go. How was he supposed to keep her safe if he couldn’t even keep her healthy?

Frankly, the Doctor didn’t consider it _hiding_ to keep Rose and their unborn child (safe) in the TARDIS and out of potentially harmful ways while he glanced at this computer problem Jack had, fixed it ASAP, returned to the TARDIS and closed the TARDIS doors behind him all the while taking Rose in his arms and possibly making love to her on the jumpseat.

“Forget it,” she snapped. Forget exasperation. She was angry.

“No jumpseat?” the Doctor asked, tugging his ear.

She didn’t look confused, but the emotions coming rather loudly and clearly through their bond told him that even if she didn’t read his mind as a true telepath might, she knew damn well what he was thinking.

“It wasn’t hard to figure out,” she muttered.

Turning for the closet, she grabbed a long-sleeved purple jumper and slipped it over her head, thus ending his lovely view of her breasts. Shame that. Maybe he’d convince her a v-neck was the way to go. Just for his eyes only, of course.

“I thought you agreed—we’re in this together,” Rose said as she turned back, tugging on a pair of loose black trousers and facing him, eyes clear of anger and annoyance. The brandy gaze was now full of concern.

Oh, she was still annoyed. Angry. But if there was one person who knew him best, it was Rose.

“We did,” he admitted slowly. But his mouth was dry and the fear crept up and tightened around his throat. “But…well,” he tried again and tugged his ear.

When he realized the tell-tale sign, he dropped his hand. He shoved his hands into his pockets and balled them into fists. Having a family was terrifying. Why hadn’t anyone ever told him?

A long-ago memory of keeping Susan safe resurfaced. Of taking her away and landing on Earth to keep her out of the Time Lords’ path. Or knowledge. He’d broken her connection with the Matrix to keep her safe. And she’d still been killed by the Time Lords. Not because she was his granddaughter—the descendant of a renegade—because Rassilon was a madman. 

The Doctor ran a hand over his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. Damn.

“Having a family is terrifying,” he grumbled, just loud enough for Rose to hear. “ _I’m_ terrified for you and the babe.”

Rose closed the distance between them and took his hands. Her grip was warm and reassuring and he relaxed. Slightly.

“What is it, love?” she whispered. “What is it really? We planned for this, talked about it, wanted it—what’s changed your mind?”

The Doctor took a deep breath and admitted, “It’s the first time we’ve been out of the TARDIS when I know there’s a problem.”

“I know,” she agreed, still in that soft voice. “But that doesn’t mean the potential for danger hasn’t existed in other places.”

He nodded, readily agreeing. “I know.” And he did. Wasn’t the point. “But this…UNIT was suspicious enough about this Adipose stuff that they sent Martha and Jack to investigate.”

What he wanted to say was _I don’t like it. Stay here. Please I beg you._

What he said was, “I don’t want you caught in any crosshairs, Rose.”

He swallowed and rested his forehead against hers. Their bond flared brighter, as it always did when they physically touched. The reds and golds of her love washed over and through him and eased the knotted ropes of his worry.

It was too soon, far too soon, to feel the baby’s mind, the tendrils of another Time Lord presence. But the Doctor reached for it nonetheless. Good practice and all. He wanted his child to feel his presence, to know the mental touch of Father.

“I told you,” she said calmly but he felt her annoyance. “I won’t take unnecessary chances. I won’t do anything stupid. I won’t endanger the baby.” Her frustration lessened, her lips brushed against his. “I might even stay out of sight. Just to be safer.”

“I don’t know what sort of man I’ll be without you, Rose,” he told her, wrapping his arms around her and refusing to let go.

“I do,” she said calmly, lips brushing against the exposed skin of his neck. “You’re the Doctor. You help where you can and show others how to realize their potential. That’s the kind of man you are. And will be.”

He didn’t think so. In fact, he doubted that very much. But the conviction in Rose’s voice, the faith in him, her inherent trust flowed into him and around him, and he thought—maybe. Maybe he would be. Could be.

“Talking about doing this and actually doing it are a lot harder than I thought,” he admitted ruefully. “Now I know why human men used to force their wives into confinement during pregnancy.”

He released a breath and pulled back just enough to smile at her. “It’s not for the women. It’s so the men know their pregnant wives are safe.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t even think about it.”

The Doctor shook his head. “No.” He swallowed, visions of Rose confined in an elaborately cushioned TARDIS vanished before his mind’s eye. “No, I won’t do that to you. I can’t. Can’t seem to be away from you for that long,” he added with a slight smile.

Pressing his lips to hers, the Doctor pulled back. “Wear comfortable shoes,” he instructed, only half joking.

“I always do since I met you,” Rose said and laughed, that hint of tongue in the corner of her mouth. “Makes for easier escapes.”

“You have your TARDIS key?” he asked and winced at the condescending look she gave him.

“What I don’t have is a sonic; which I think will come in handy.”

The Doctor narrowed his eyes at his wife. Had Martha said something to Rose about that? She’d harassed him (ordered might be more like it) to create sonics for all of them—she, Rose, and Jack. Just in Case.

He’d been working on not panicking. Even an impressive brain such as his couldn’t multitask Not Panicking and anything else. Unless it was _Not Panicking in Bed with Rose._ That was different.

“Ah. Yes,” he whispered and promised and maybe even agreed. The Doctor released his breath in a rush. He reached into his trousers pocket and extracted the screwdriver he’d just started working on.

“I ah, well,” he said sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. “May have started to make you one. It only has a few settings,” he added quickly when she carefully, almost reverently, took it from him.

The awed, stunned look on her face reassured him this was not only the right move, but the smart one. She knew how to use the sonic, of course, and her having one might mean he couldn’t swoop in and save the day, but it also meant she’d be safer.

And that was the only thing that mattered.

“I didn’t think you’d actually make me one,” she admitted softly. “You like being the one with the sonic and saving the day.”

He gathered her close and rested his cheek atop her head. “I’d rather you be safe.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, lips brushing the skin just above his tie. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“Together, yeah?” he said, voice strangled. “Together.”

“Yeah.” Rose kissed him, a hard press of lips to his. “Just remember that. We’re in this together. No matter what.”

As it turned out, _together_ meant Rose not on the roof of the building by the window washer’s trolley (where she’d have been relatively safe though not on the TARDIS which was parked in the alleyway). And the Doctor and Jack in the trolley itself listening in on the window.

Despite what the Doctor wanted (for Martha to stay with Rose not to protect her, never that really! But to…stay with her. On the roof. Where it was safe.) Rose and Martha were in the offices, snooping around.

This pregnancy was going to give him hearts failure.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was a suspicious looking computer in a suspicious looking cupboard with a suspicious sounding flimflam woman. Of course we’re going to check it out!

The real question wasn’t what was Miss Foster up to, the Doctor thought as Rose and Martha snooped through the paper files on the other side of the offices where Foster spoke to the reporter she’d tied to a chair.

(That was an argument he didn’t want to have again—the look on Rose’s face was enough to make him stop talking. He’d only (somewhat) innocently suggested that if she wasn’t staying in the TARDIS then the roof was a decent second choice.) 

The real question was how could he not breathe when he had a respiratory bypass? Before Pregnant Rose, her being in danger terrified him. Now? He might not survive the pregnancy.

“Can you see Martha or Rose?” the Doctor asked as he fiddled with the sonicked stethoscope he used to listen in on the conversation. Jack, crouched beside him, peeked over the sill.

They still hadn’t figured out the computer, not completely. It was fascinating, bio-flip digital stitch and all, but he had a feeling it required a little something more than he’d figured out. Maybe if he had another of those capsules Jack had charmed out of the telemarketers, he’d be able to use it to hack into the mainframe, crack the encryption.

Whatever these people were doing, it had to be bad—no one had this level of encryption for anything _good_. 

“No, there’s a redhead at the door.”

The Doctor looked up just enough to see what Jack saw. “Is she with this lot?” he asked. And froze. _“Donna?”_

“Who’s Donna?” Jack muttered.

The Doctor felt his glare but was so stunned that _Donna_ stood on the opposite side of the room he barely acknowledged it.

“What?” the Doctor said, stunned. “But— _what?_ ”

“Who’s Donna?” Jack repeated.

“What?” He shook his head and closed his mouth. “Ah.” He could not, however, pull his gaze from where she excitedly mouthed how she’d tried to track him down.

“Met her a couple Christmas’s ago. She was the bride who beamed onto the TARDIS after—”

After the supernova. After goodbye. After Rose was lost to him.

He sucked in a deep breath. That was then and this was now and Rose’s bright love pulsed gently over their bond. The Doctor rubbed his thumb over his wedding ring and looked through the window again, even if he couldn’t see her. But she was there and with him (and safe) and pregnant.

Through their bond, Rose offered a warm kiss and some of that desolation vanished. He needed to live in the here and now, not in the past. Wasn’t that was they talked about? Promised each other they’d do? Live now, each and every day.

“Oh. Um.” Jack nodded back to the window. “She’s spotted us.”

“Donna?” he said and looked across the room to where the redhead continued to silently tell her story and point excitedly.

“No.” Jack yanked him down. “Foster and her lackeys.”

“Oh.”

He sonicked the door locked so they didn’t get Donna and didn’t know about Rose and Martha, then sonicked the trolley so he and Jack ascended at thrice the legal speed. Worry beat through their bond but the Doctor did his best not to let his own fears overwhelm him.

He and Jack raced for the roof access they’d used. Donna raced up the steps and they literally ran into each other. She looked thrilled to see him and hugged him tight.

“Oh, my God,” Donna gasped, looking at him as if he were Father Christmas. “I don’t believe it. You’ve even got the same suit!” She pulled back and frowned. “Don’t you ever change?”

“Right. Yes. Not now, Donna.”

Rose skidded to a halt just inside the stairwell. “What happened?” she demanded. “Did they see you?”

The Doctor disentangled himself from Donna and leaped the few steps separating he and Rose. He pressed his lips to hers in a short, hard kiss. Just to remind himself she was here. With him. Then he grabbed her hand and yanked open the door.

“We were spotted. And yes,” he said, Donna beside him with Jack bringing up the rear. “I sonicked the door closed but they know we’re here. And Donna’s here.”

Rose stumbled on the steps and he turned, catching her before she could do more than wobble. “Donna?” She grinned widely and shook her head, looking at the redhead now as they continued out the stairwell. “How’d she find you?”

“Later,” he insisted.

“What are the odds?” Rose wondered aloud.

Shocked? Yes. Stunned? Oh very. Confused? Yup, that too.

Because what were the odds of Donna finding him? People searched for him their entire lives— _how had Donna found him again?_

(How had Jack? In New York clear across town? Jack had heard the TARDIS and ran pell-mell through the city, unerringly finding the TARDIS by Lady Liberty. How had Rose? A question he preferred not to dwell on, but what were the odds of her first jump landing her in the right place and time? Literally at the TARDIS’s front door.)

(He didn’t like to calculate the odds. Didn’t want to think about them. About how easy Rose could have missed him.)

“Hi,” Rose said to Donna as the four of them raced down the steps and back toward the offices. “I’m Rose.”

He really, really hadn’t wanted her running. Not here. Not now. Yes, exercise might be good for her health (yoga and such) but not this. Not running from people wanting them dead. Not with men after them with _guns_.

“I’m very glad to meet you, Donna,” Rose added over her shoulder as he sonicked the door closed behind them.

“Rose?” Donna gaped for a moment then rounded on him. She poked him in the chest. Hard. “I thought you said she was lost?”

“Oh.” Rose cleared her throat but he felt the same jumble of emotions from her as beat through him—happiness and loneliness and fear and joy and love. “Yes, well, I was in a different, erm, anyway, back now!”

He finally got the door open and the four of them burst into the main offices. They were on half-light, silent even over the pounding of his hearts. Had they missed the goons with guns? Where were they? Was there another staircase with roof access?

“Martha!” Jack shouted.

Martha popped up from where she dug through a filing cabinet. “Shh!” she hissed back.

“No time for that,” the Doctor called, uncaring now who heard them.

“Oh.” Martha stood and ran to the group. “They found us, eh?”

“Oh yes.” Rose snickered even as he frantically looked for another way out.

And how had Rose known they were in trouble? She’d come running. Their bond didn’t work like that—but then since her return and their marriage ceremony, their bond had deepened. And it wasn’t like he kept his abject fear for her under tight control.

Or any control.

“Second staircase?” the Doctor demanded.

“Yes, one at each of the four corners,” Jack said. “Not sure about the guards, I only saw the two but I’m sure with this level of computer encryption there have to be more to protect the information.”

“I didn’t find anything else,” Martha was saying. “All very mundane numbers and sales and sales quotas. No hint of an evil plan.”

“But I saw it,” Donna added. “I saw it happen to Stacy Campbell. She used Adipose and then there was nothing left of her.”

“What do you mean, _nothing left of her_?” The Doctor demanded. He still hadn’t released Rose’s hand and now only tightened his grip.

He knew this was a bad idea! What was wrong with staying in the TARDIS for…ever?

“Well, then,” Miss Foster said from the opposite end of the office. “At last.”

Jack moved to stand in front of Martha and Rose. The Doctor eased his hand from Rose’s and stood next to him. His mind frantically tried to think of a plan. But between _Not Panicking_ and _Rose is Right there Panicking_ and _Guns Pointed at Them_ , his multitasking skills were put to the test.

Forget his calm.

“Oh, hello,” Donna offered weakly and waved.

“Get behind me,” Jack hissed.

Donna turned to look at him. The Doctor felt Rose’s exasperation—if he knew Donna, she was about to argue—and yanked Donna behind Jack. Maybe he’d invest in a bulletproof vest. A good one. From the future so it’d stop all sorts of bullets.

A sonic bubble?

Gah!

How was he supposed to think when Rose and their child were in danger? How was he supposed to function? Just as his hearts began to triple beat in his chest too hard and too fast, the Doctor felt a calming wave of love wash over him.

He daren’t look behind him, but let Rose’s love embrace him. The Doctor took a deep breath and grinned.

“Nice to meet you, I’m the Doctor,” he said with all the confidence he felt.

He’d get them out of this. And then fall to his knees and thank Jack for protecting Rose.

“Well look at you,” Foster sneered. “Seems the gang’s all here then. And evidently off-worlders, judging by your sonic technology.”

“Oh, yes,” he said and rocked back on his heels. The Doctor casually reached into his pocket and extracted his sonic.

“Nice sonic pen,” he added with a nod toward the pen in Foster’s hand. “Nice. I like it. Sleek. It’s kind of sleek.”

Behind him he heard Rose, her voice just loud enough for him to hear. She and Martha were planning their escape; how close the nearest exit was, which desks to hide behind, whether they could dodge the goons with guns. Brilliant, his Rose. Thinking on her feet as always.

Bursting with pride and love, he grinned at Miss Foster. It didn’t seem to disconcert her.

It should’ve.

“If you were to sign your real name that would be?” he let the question trail off and felt Rose shift, ready to run.

_“Donna, stay close. Can you run in those shoes?”_

“Matron Cofelia of the Five Straighten Classabindi Nursery Fleet. Intergalactic Class,” she said rather proudly.

The Doctor nearly choked. What were the odds they’d be dealing with a nanny the first time they stepped out of the TARDIS, pregnant?

“A wet nurse,” he spat, even as he heard Rose ease back another step. “Using humans as surrogates.”

Miss Foster/ Matron Cofelia chuckled. “I’ve been employed by the Adiposian First Family to foster a new generation after their breeding planet was lost.”

Rose stopped. Jack stiffened, but the Doctor still didn’t look around. He wanted Foster’s attention on him. He wanted those guns aimed at him and Jack. 

“What do you mean lost?” he asked, mind racing. “How do you lose a _planet_?”

“Oh,” Foster said airily with a negligent wave of her hand. “Politics are none of my concern. I’m just here to take care of the children on behalf of the parents.”

Politics—what was happening on Adiposia that cause them to lose a planet? He’d never known them to be a war-like race. Had they been invaded?

“You’re like, what?” Donna asked and he heard Rose curse. “Like an outer space super nanny?”

“Yes,” Foster agreed with a shrug. “If you like. 

“So,” Donna continued and from the corner of his eye the Doctor saw her step from behind Jack.

Rose cursed again.  
He tried not to panic.  
It was difficult.

“So those little things,” Donna said, louder now, “they’re, they’re made out of fat, yeah, but that woman, Stacy Campbell, there was nothing left of her.”

“Oh, in a crisis the Adipose can convert bone and hair and internal organs.” Again Foster shrugged like it was nothing. “Makes them a little bit sick, poor things.”

“What about _poor_ Stacy?” Donna demanded, clearly not understanding there were _guns aimed at them._

“Seeding a level five planet is against galactic law,” Jack said louder than necessary.

The Doctor looked just a bit to the side and saw Jack shift—he tried to block all three women. Forget falling to his knees. The Doctor might just kiss Jack.

“Are you threatening me?” Foster laughed.

“We’re trying to help you, Matron,” Rose said clearly and calmly. “Politics might not concern you, but that’s no excuse for willful ignorance.”

His hearts stopped. Rose stepped from around Jack, who cursed fluently at the move, and took his hand. The Doctor didn’t know what to do. This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to play out. It was supposed to be simple—look at the computer, figure it all out, help Jack and Martha and stop this.

Mostly, it was keep Rose safe.

“This is your one chance,” he told the other woman, hand wrapped tightly around Rose’s. Grounding him. And slipping her sonic into his hand. Oh, brilliant! God, he loved this woman. “Because if you don’t call this off, then I’ll have to stop you.”

“I hardly think you can stop bullets,” Foster scoffed.

The guards raised their weapons and cold claws of fear slashed through him. But the Doctor dropped Rose’s hand and raised both of his, gripping one sonic each.

“No, hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on. One more thing, before dying. Do you know what happens if you hold two identical sonic devices against each other?”

Thank all the deities in the universe, Foster paused. “No,” she admitted.

“Nor me.” He might have grinned, but no. “Let’s find out!”

The noise was deafening, but he didn’t care. Jack grabbed Martha’s hand, the Doctor grabbed Rose’s in one and Donna’s in the other and ran. 

********  
“I can’t believe I waved at fat,” Donna said as all five of them slowly walked back downstairs.

Rose laughed and grinned at her. She liked Donna—but then she had a feeling she would, solely based on the Doctor’s story of how he’d met her. Reaching out for the Doctor’s hand, she tugged him toward her and smiled up at him as well.

The haunted look in his eyes had more to do with her and guns, Rose knew, than with the Matron’s untimely death. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t save them all and it tore at him. She wrapped her other hand around their joined ones and concentrated on sending him all the warmth and love and comfort she could.

“What about the Matron?” Donna asked as they walked slowly down the steps.

“Willful ignorance,” Martha said.

Rose looked over at her friend, at the sadness in her voice, and nodded. “She didn’t want to know she was in the wrong,” Rose added. “Just doing her job—I’ve heard that so many times before. She didn’t care who got hurt because it didn’t affect her.”

The Doctor shuddered and Rose wondered what he was remembering. His emotions were a chaotic jumble of fear and love and though she tried to calm him, knew it was like plugging a dam with her fingers.

“I called UNIT,” Jack added and pushed open the door onto street level. “They’ll round everything up—the capsules and the computer.” He glanced at the Doctor, but the Doctor stared straight ahead. “We’ll sneak in later and dismantle it,” he promised.

“Right now,” Martha groaned as they turned onto the alley, “I just want a shower.” She stopped dead and turned to Donna. “I’m Martha Jones, by the way. This one’s rubbish at introductions.”

“Donna,” Donna said with a smile. “Donna Noble.”

“Captain Jack Harkness,” Jack said with a grin and wink.

Rose snickered. Still, the Doctor said nothing. Didn’t really even look at them. Just kept her hand tightly gripped in his and his pace measured.

“Rose Tyler,” Rose offered and felt the Doctor’s hand tighten even further around hers. “How did you find us?”

“Oh,” Donna said with a little laugh. “I thought: how do you find the Doctor? And then I just thought, look for trouble and he’ll turn up.”

Rose snorted and shared a look with Martha and Jack. The Doctor offered a slight smile but nothing else. She bit back a sigh. This wasn’t going to be a talk. It was going to be an argument. But damn if she’d spend the entirety of her pregnancy bundled in the TARDIS. Pregnancy and who knew how many years after the baby was born.

Babies, if she hadn’t killed her Time Lord by then.

“Well,” Jack snickered, “you’re not wrong!”

“So I looked everywhere,” Donna added. “You name it: UFOs, sightings, crop circles, sea monsters. I looked, I found them all. Like that stuff about the bees disappearing, I thought, I bet he’s connected.”

“What do you mean, the bees are disappearing?” The Doctor stopped and stared at her. “I don’t have anything to do with disappearing bees!”

They’d stopped at the mouth of the alley. Rose felt his desire to run to the TARDIS and shut out the world, it throbbed through him, but she kept him close.

“I don’t know,” Donna said defensively then relaxed slightly. “That’s what it says on the internet, that the bees are disappearing not necessarily that you have anything to do with it. Well, on the same site, there were all these conspiracy theories about Adipose Industries and I thought, let’s take a look.”

“Sarah Jane’s looking into the bees,” Martha reminded them.

“She and Jo,” Rose agreed. “Our friends, they’re looking into it. Must’ve read the same conspiracy site as you, Donna.” They laughed, except for the Doctor, but Donna looked a little more relaxed around them at least. “They haven’t found anything out except pesticides.”

“That’s bad enough,” Jack sighed. “You really grow an appreciation of natural fertilizers when you’ve tasted the changes throughout the decades.”

Donna looked at him funny but Martha merely rubbed his arm. Again guilt slammed into her, but Rose held it back. Jack had forgiven her. She hadn’t forgiven herself.

“Yeah,” Martha picked up, slipping her hand down Jack’s arm to take his hand. “They’re starting a whole campaign to save the bees—internet petitions, writing to the companies and to parliament, all of it.”

“Oh.” Donna shrugged. “Still, the thing is, Doctor, I believe it all now. You opened my eyes. All those amazing things out there, I believe them all.” She paused and frowned. “Well, apart from that replica of the Titanic flying over Buckingham Palace on Christmas Day. I mean, that’s _got_ to be a hoax.”

Rose chuckled weakly. “Not exactly,” she offered.

Visions of blood and desperation danced before her eyes. She’d had nightmares after. They’d mourned the deaths and set Mr. Cooper up in London someplace, but being separated from the Doctor—he to confront mad Max and her to the bridge—did not help.

No, they wouldn’t argue tonight over the Doctor’s fear of losing her. Because Rose understood. She understood and shared his fear. Having a child really brought home how dangerous their life was.

How dangerous _life_ was.

“That’s my car!” Donna suddenly exclaimed.

Rose turned to where she pointed down the alley they’d parked the TARDIS. She looked up at the Doctor; nervous dread danced through her stomach.

“What are the odds?” Martha mumbled.

Donna looked like she wanted to say something more. Rose knew that look. The regret that came with not accepting the Doctor’s offer. He’d come back for her. Asked twice. It was different then, Rose thought—the Doctor was different.

Then again, maybe not. He’d lost everything when they’d met. He’d lost her when he met Donna. Rose took a deep breath and released it slowly. Not so different then.

“Anyone else hungry?” Rose asked, tugging her husband toward the TARDIS. “I’m starved.”

“I could go for a glass of wine,” Donna added with a nervous smile.

Oh, yes, Rose knew that look. And maybe that was their problem. Maybe it was not having anyone else with them that caused this suffocating-claustrophobic feel; the two of them so insulated they’d begun to pull back from the world.

“Come on,” Rose said and pulled her key from around her neck. It lay just beneath her marriage pendant on a long separate chain. She never wanted to lose it. “Let’s eat.”

“Oh my god!” Donna exclaimed as they walked into the TARDIS.

Rose turned and stared at her. Hadn’t the Doctor said she’d been in the ship? Surely Donna remembered the TARDIS was bigger on the inside.

“You’re married!”

“Oh.” Rose grinned and laughed happily. “Yeah, for a bit now.”

She turned to look up at the Doctor. The dimples lining his cheeks weren’t as pronounced and the tension in his shoulders eased and the death hold on her hand lessened.

“It was beautiful,” Jack cut in with a wink and an arm draped over Donna’s shoulders. “Pink beaches and no people. Lots of champagne and dancing.” He pulled Martha to him and dipped her low over his arm. “Lots of fun afterwards.”

Martha laughed and pushed at his shoulders. “Let me up you goof!”

When Jack did, Martha was still laughing and kissed him lightly. Rose saw her looking at them from the corner of her eye and Martha looped her arm through Donna’s and steered them all toward the kitchen. Their voices carried, bits about Francine dancing and little Keisha and Alistair and Doris going to town with the foxtrot.

“You did invite her,” Rose reminded him quietly.

She guided him to the jumpseat and set him down. Standing between his legs, his hands on her hips, Rose squeezed his upper arms. They just needed a minute. Just a moment to themselves, often did after a particularly dangerous day.

Martha and Jack would see to Donna, entertain her with stories and wine for a few minutes.

Rose watched the Doctor breathe in deeply, a harsh gasp of air. His eyes closed tight for a moment then opened. “Yeah.” 

“We’ll take her on a trip. One trip. And see what happens. She’s changed from what you told me.” Rose pulled back and stepped even closer. She gently tilted his chin up and kissed him softly, a press of lips.

He quirked an eyebrow at her and offered a ghost of his normal grin. “Last time I invited someone to travel with us you hated it.”

Rose frowned. With Martha and Jack? “When I came back?” Oh. No. “With Mickey.”

A stab of regret shot through her. She’d been so horrible to her friend then. She cleared her throat and admitted something she hadn’t done when Mickey traveled with them or even after. It’d been so long ago, felt like another lifetime.

“We weren’t really together,” she said slowly. “We were working toward that again, yeah.”

They had almost been there when Mickey had called and she’d met Sarah Jane and then…well, France. And the inadequacies and shortcomings and self-faults she’d let take over. And the aftermath…the alternate universe.

“I wanted to…” she sighed, licked her lips. “I wanted to just be with you then. I wanted to get back to what we had…the intimacy we shared…before. I loved you so much and things weren’t…we weren’t…”

She shook her head and looked up at the domed ceiling of the TARDIS, sniffing back the thick emotion that clogged her throat.

The Doctor’s hands tightened on her hips, one hand trailing up her back to tangle in her hair. He brought her head down until her forehead touched his. The warm pulse of his love enveloped her and she sighed.

“I didn’t want Mickey with us until we—you and me—were back on, well, on solid ground.” She paused, drew in a deep breath.

She and Mickey had talked about it during her time over there. They’d come to a comfortable friendship that had all the hallmarks of when they’d dated, except without the actual dating.

She’d apologized to Mickey. Oh, had she apologized for her treatment of him. She’d been so horrible then, and even when Mickey wanted to stay there, to find his own life outside the estate or as her discarded lover, she’d been horribly selfish.

And all because she hadn’t known where she stood with the Doctor. Hadn’t yet had to stand on her own and wanted to lean on the Time Lord she loved and then had lost. Instead she’d been a brat, a childish brat who knew better but sure as hell hadn’t acted like it.

Never again. She could survive without the Doctor. She didn’t want to; no she wanted him as her partner, her lover and husband and mate. But if she had to, Rose knew she’d be able to stand on her own two feet…without him.

At the time Sarah Jane’s words had done nothing but ring true—about her youth and inexperience and how she was so very, very young.

It wasn’t an excuse, it was feeling. The messy feelings of abandonment and love and grasping hope that had tumbled around her heart and brain and made things so much worse than they needed to be.

Rose promised to never hide again—to talk or scream if need be with the Doctor until they reached an understanding. And they certainly did that.

“Now,” she said lighter, “now we’re on very solid ground.”

Rose pulled back and grinned widely. She purposely peeked her tongue out of the side of her mouth, watched the Doctor’s gaze zero in on it and grinned wider. Stepped closer.

“Our relationship is stronger than ever and we’re more comfortable with each other. More…” she paused and shrugged. “Secure. Sure. Happy.”

His mouth was hard and insistent against hers. Brief and possessive and yet so, so soft. “Rose,” he said, voice strangled. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” she asked against his lips.

“Then. Being scared.” He pulled her even closer, head resting against the very slight mound of her belly and held her tight. “Running. From you. From us.”

“No more, right?” Rose whispered, combing her fingers through his hair.

The Doctor hummed a little as she did so and pressed his lips to her jumper-clad belly, his long fingers framing it. “No,” he whispered and pulled her back down to him. “No more running.”

He laughed then, softly but with some of the happiness they’d found since her return. “Not from you at least. Can’t guarantee there’ll be no running!”

He deepened the kiss. It tasted of desperation and Doctor and love and Rose sighed into it.

“Yeah,” he said on another gasp of breath. “Yeah, we’ll do one trip.”

“Good,” she said and pulled back, kissed him again, then really pulled back. “Come on, then. I’m starved!”

The Doctor stood, his eyes stormy with the fear and relief of the day. But he nodded. “No wine for you,” he admonished but smiled.

It was a start.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The band’s back together—with Donna. It’s a smooth transition, this new addition. Or is it? Slightly NSFW

“How many times do we have to have this argument?” Rose demanded and threw her hands up in irritation. “I’m not hiding in the TARDIS, Doctor.” Rose folded her arms over her chest and glared. “So forget it.”

The Doctor refused to back down. He didn’t care how unreasonable he sounded. And he knew he sounded unreasonable. _He knew it._ Didn’t stop the words from leaving his mouth.

“ _And_ I’m not hiding behind Jack every time we step foot out of the TARDIS,” Rose snapped. “What if he’s not traveling with us? What if he’s over there?” She flung one arm to the left only to rest her hands on her hips. “And I’m over here?”

She stepped closer and dropped her hands to his. Her touch was comfort-love-Rose, but her eyes blazed with anger and annoyance and the Doctor couldn’t help but sigh. This wasn’t how he wanted this argument to go.

Not that he wanted an argument. A simple agreement on Rose’s part to never leave the TARDIS again…which may have been just a tad unreasonable to expect.

He’d never have fallen in love with her if she acquiesced so quickly to his wishes. One of the many things he loved about Rose was her stubbornness. Expect when directed at him.

“What if Martha’s beside him and in danger but I’m ten, thirty, fifty feet away? Is he going to leave Martha?” Rose shook her head, voice no softer or less adamant. “What if it’s a choice between you and me, then? No. I won’t force him to make that choice, Doctor. I won’t force _anyone_ to make that choice.”

“Rose,” he began, hands fisted in his hair, then stopped.

Tugging her against him, he hugged her tight. Breathed in her scent and her warmth and held her. They’d had dinner with Donna, the five of them seamlessly moving about the kitchen as if Donna had always been a part of their dynamic. And he liked that, liked the ease with which his friends (family) got along.

They’d laughed and ate and the Doctor felt his fear lessening a smidgen —shuffled away in the happy, lazy aftermath of them back together.

His fear had been driven home when Rose yawned and he saw how tired his wife was. Head in hand, glass of ginger mint iced tea in the other (the only drink she managed to keep down), she continued to talk and laugh, share stories with Donna. But her eyes drooped and her shoulders sagged.

Martha promised to see Donna to her room, Jack agreed to clean up, and the Doctor gently, carefully, twined his fingers with Rose and led her to their bedroom.

They hadn’t bothered to undress, he still wore all his layers and she her trousers and thin purple jumper though she’d long ago lost her sneakers. Now the Doctor wondered if he should’ve waited until they were in bed before bringing up his fears.

The words tumbled out before he remembered how to stop them.

He needed to feel her skin to skin. Touch her, make love to her, taste her. 

“I know,” she whispered, hands flat against his back. Rose pressed her lips to the side of his neck. “I know. But you can’t hide me away. I’m not glass and I won’t shatter. I can take care of myself and I won’t be hidden away like that.”

“I can try,” he mumbled.

“No,” Rose snapped and pulled back, taking her warm, alive body with her. “You can’t.”

She stopped and sighed and said softer, “And I won’t be, be hidden away like—like a porcelain doll or diamond that’s nice to look at but you don’t let anyone touch. I’m pregnant, not stupid, Doctor. We talked about this even before we started trying. Remember?”

He reluctantly nodded. It was a rhetorical question and one that, at the time, he hadn’t wanted to answer anyway. He knew Rose wouldn’t have liked his answer. And really, what was wrong with staying in the TARDIS? Indefinitely? Plenty of rooms to explore.

He could’ve cleaned out the storage bins…

“I just want you safe, Rose.” He sucked in a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling. “They had guns, Rose,” he reminded her. “And they were aimed at you.”

“I know,” she whispered. Her hands framed his face and she gently tugged until their foreheads touched. “I know. And I was ready—Martha and I were going to run, but then—” She shook her head. “I know I said I wouldn’t take unnecessary chances, but I may have overestimated my ability to leave you in dangerous situations.”

She sighed again and smiled slightly. “No getting rid of me,” she said. Words she’d said or variations thereof, often. “I couldn’t just leave you and Jack there,” she admitted. “I know what we talked about, but it just wasn’t happening. We’re in this life of ours together. Partners. No matter what happens.”

“I know. Partners.” He nodded, hands slipping beneath her jumper to the still-flatness of her stomach. It was round, a very small bump.

Suddenly flushed with pride and love, he kissed her, gently coaxing her mouth open and sliding his tongue along hers. She kissed him back, his true name a hum along their bond.

“You mean everything to me, Rose,” he said softly, the words a thin thread that his fear pulled out of him. “ _Everything._ My lover, my partner, my wife—there’s no single word in any language in the universe that describes what you mean to me.”

“How about,” she whispered, “I love you.”

His breath hitched and emotion choked him. But the Doctor nodded. _Yes._ He cupped her face and with every ounce of touch telepathy he possessed and every thread of the bond between them, he made sure she knew how very much he loved her.

“Come here,” Rose said quietly, mouth a hair’s breadth from his.

She led him to their bed and lay atop the covers. He lay before her, fitted himself against her with practiced ease, still kissing her. One leg slid between hers and he hummed in contentment and peace. For long, long moments he held her, felt her single heart beating against his and the small barely-there mound of her pregnancy against his own belly.

“You can’t expect Jack to always be there or to always protect me,” she whispered, turning her head just enough to press her cheek into his hand. “I can take care of myself, and you know I won’t take any unnecessary chances.”

“I know,” he agreed. “But—” he broke off and ran a hand over his face.

Propping himself up on one arm, he ran the tips of his fingers over her face, down her neck, along her arm. Wherever he could. He just needed to touch her. He slipped her jumper up and exposed her belly, skin warm against his cooler fingers.

One hand rested atop his, another solid, reassuring presence over the small mound of her pregnancy.

“When I saw Donna, all I could think about were the odds of her finding me again. Of…of you finding me again. And I,” he sighed and twined his fingers with hers.

“I don’t want to think about how easy it was for you to find me on that first jump. Because it should’ve been impossible.”

“Impossible, eh?” Rose grinned, a small smile that grew and, as her smile grew, his fear diminished. “Impossible like how you saved me in Henrik’s basement? What were the odds of me going down there just as you were there? Or impossible like how I didn’t burn up from the TARDIS’s heart energy?”

The Doctor shuddered, smile disappearing. He really didn’t want to think of that. Even now, years later, the image of her standing there, tendrils of golden light surrounding her, terrified him. Terrified and made him in awe of Rose’s strength and love.

“Or impossible like we see every day?” Rose shook her head and tugged him even closer. “Doctor, we live the impossible, it’s just who you are…” she paused and when she spoke again it was even softer. “Who we are.”

She kissed him then, another impossibility—her love. She’d loved him for so long and yet it felt a mere drop in the bucket of his life. If she loved him for the rest of his lives—or for a literal eternity—it’d still feel too short. But he embraced it, kept it close to him.

“I love you, Rose,” he said and pulled her jumper over her head.

Her skin was soft and musky, Rose had stopped wearing perfume just after she ‘joined up’. He’d made a comment about his exceptional sense of smell—the planet they were visiting had a seriously horrible undercurrent of stench he couldn’t shake. Rose hadn’t smelled it, but it clogged his sinuses for hours.

The next day she’d stopped wearing perfume. The next time they visited a marketplace, she’d looked for all-natural bath products.

“I love your courage and your smile,” he said and kissed down her neck, tongue flicking along the lacy cups of her bra. “And I love your compassion.”

She sighed into his touch, body relaxing beneath his hands and mouth even as her nerves hummed in arousal, the feel of her anticipation a delicious current along his own skin, his every touch a connection between them. The Doctor unclasped her trousers and pulled them off as well, mouth following the trail of newly exposed skin.

He wanted to take her hard, feel her explode in his mouth, her body arching up against his as he pounded into her.

But he needed this. Soft kisses and the light touches and the way Rose responded. Breathy moans and sighs of his name. Her hands tangled in his hair and her body curved into his touch.

Already her body had changed with the tang of hormones and pregnancy; the Doctor swirled his tongue over her nipple, bit down on it and tasted all the differences in her. Rose rocked against him, but he ignored her urgency and continued slowly exploration.

He kissed over the slight bump of her womb, hands spreading her legs for him. He tried to calculate each change in Rose, from the DNA deep changes she’d had to undergo for them to conceive to the more immediate ones caused by her pregnancy.

All he tasted was her. There were differences, but none mattered. Because she was his and every taste of her continued to explode over his senses until all that remained was her. Only she mattered.

His wife. His love. His Rose.

“Doctor,” she gasped, hips arching.

He held her still, slipped two fingers into her, three, and devoured her. Flicked his tongue against her clit, thrust his fingers deep into her, curled them just so until her pleas became breathy moans and wordless cries.

She climaxed hard against him, hips jerking, walls clamping hard around his fingers, his name a sob of need across their bond. He reluctantly withdrew, her taste a lingering explosion across his tongue he savored for long, long minutes. Kissing up her body, he slipped his hands beneath her knees and pushed them up and back. Opening her completely to him.

“Yes,” Rose sighed.

Her hands tangled in his hair now, her mouth sloppy and hard against his. Nails scraped down his back and dug into his arse. One hand circled to lightly stroke his cock, a teasing touch that sent shudders of need and more and Rose through him. He sank into the kiss, the need and the love and the utter perfection of their joining.

“Rose—” A broken plea, an adoration.

The Doctor didn’t know what, only Rose. He released one of her legs and guided himself in, slow, easy. Seated fully, he stilled and waited. Watched her eyes flutter open and lock with his.

He moved then, long deep thrusts that joined them so completely. He opened his senses until their bond _burned_ between them, bright flashes of hot need and deep pulses of love. It surrounded them and bound them to each other.

Would he have ever found this with another?

The Doctor didn’t know but Rose was there for him when he needed her most. Laughing with him, challenging him, saving whatever was left of his soul. Showing him light and love and holding his hand as she guided him from the darkness.

He’d follow her anywhere. Everywhere.

Each thrust, harder now, reminded him of that. Told her the depths of his love in ways words never could. Even through their bond, he didn’t know she truly understood— _I love you_ had many meanings. What he felt for Rose was so much more.

It was his very soul.

Rose cried out, came hard, her body jerking against his as her orgasm ripped through her and across their bond. He thrust faster, unable to look away as she gasped for breath. Let her pleasure flow over him and ignite his own. Harder now, still unable to look away.

_I love you. I need you. I cherish you above all others. You are my soul, my heart, my light. My love. My everything._

He pushed all that across their bond and came. His climax rushed through him and he emptied himself in his lover, her body clenching around him, drawing him even deeper to her.

“Doctor,” she sighed-gasped-moaned.

“I love you,” he promised, mouth against her sweaty shoulder. “I love you, Rose.”

He rolled to the side, still buried in her, unable, unwilling, to be parted from her. He simply held her, hooked a leg over his hips and maintained their connection. His fingers drifted over her belly, down the long curve of her spine, over the swell of her arse and hips and pulled her even closer.

The Doctor let contentment flow over him, the press of Rose’s kisses to his neck and jaw, the dance of her fingers along his shoulders and back. The feel of her against him lulled him to sleep.

********  
“Ancient Rome,” Rose asked dubiously. “Really? I mean—we’re already here. Or there. Or we have already…”

“You’ve been to ancient Rome?” Donna asked.

Why she was surprised, Donna didn’t know. Rose and the Doctor had traveled together for ages; the Doctor claimed he was over 900 years old—he’d probably been to Rome dozens of times. They’d probably visited all the cool places. And Rome was definitely a cool place to visit.

Though Donna didn’t think she’d want to live there. No hair dryer for one. Probably no coffee either. What a nightmare.

“Sculpted a statue,” the Doctor boasted with a wink at Rose. “We’ll go to the British Museum next and I’ll show you.”

“It really does look like Rose,” Martha injected from her position at the TARDIS controls. She rolled her eyes good-naturedly and Donna smiled. “Even if he is bragging.”

They all had their place. Each of the four of them stood at a specific spot and moved as if they’d done so forever. A coordinated piloting of the ship. It fascinated Donna. It also sent needles of jealousy through her.

She’d never belonged. Not at home, not in any of the myriad of jobs she held. Once, after she said no to the Doctor’s invitation, Donna thought maybe she’d carve out her own path. But that took skills she didn’t possess and money she didn’t have.

Looking at the group now, Donna wondered if she’d fit in here. Or if this adventure, this one trip the Doctor promised her, was simply another taste of what she might-could-possibly grasp.

Donna hadn’t told any of them she’d packed for the long term. They’d ushered her into the TARDIS after the adorable Adipose had beamed up and that was that. Dinner had tempted her, taunted her with the maybes—she thought she worked well with the group, easily fitting in to make food and set the table and pour the wine.

Now, as they laughed over Rome and statues and adventures they’d had which she hadn’t been a part of, Donna wondered.

“And here we are,” the Doctor pronounced.

He looked lighter today. Whatever bothered him last night, seemed to have vanished with the morning. Donna strongly suspected Rose had everything to do with that.

“Ancient Rome.”

“Go ahead, Donna,” Rose said with a wide grin and a nod toward the doors. “Your first trip. Well,” she said with another laugh. “Your first _real_ trip. The spider one doesn’t count. You get the honors.”

Donna did not squeal as she opened the doors and stepped out. But it was a close thing.

“So, Ancient Rome,” the Doctor said from beside her. “Well, not for them, obviously. To all intents and purposes, right now, this is brand new Rome.”

Donna barely heard him. She turned in a circle and looked around. Everything felt different. The sun, the breeze, the air smelled—well, it smelled the same. Maybe not the exhaust-filled air of England, but it certainly wasn’t the crisp, pristine, pollution-free air she expected.

“Oh, my God,” she breathed, because she didn’t care about the air.

She was in Ancient Rome!

Rose and Martha watched her, delight on their features. The Doctor stood closer to Rose than Donna thought healthy but hey, maybe that’s what Martians did with their wives. 

“It’s, it’s so Roman. This is fantastic!”

Jack laughed and draped his arm over her shoulders. He was very touchy feely for a man apparently involved with Martha. Donna couldn’t get a bead on him. Then again, her taste in men was clearly abysmal. Case in point: Lance and the big spider-woman.

“I’m here, in Rome. Donna Noble in Rome!” She looked again, it didn’t matter what happened after this. Whether she went home or not. Because this was a gift she’d never forget and never let go of.

“This is just weird. I mean, everyone here’s dead.”

Martha shrugged and came up beside her, still smiling and looking as relaxed as if they’d just stepped into the local mall. “I wouldn’t tell them that if I were you. People don’t take well to that kind of talk.”

“No, I guess not,” she agreed then cut herself off. “Hold on a minute. That sign over there’s in English.” She turned to glare at the Doctor who seemed unfazed. “Are you having me on? Are we in EPCOT?”

“No, Donna,” Rose reassured her and tugged the Doctor into motion. “The TARDIS does that. Her translation circuits make words in any language look like English; sound like English as well.” She looked to the Doctor with a soft, intimate smile. “Well, almost any language.”

“Yup!” Jack said as they walked out of the immediate area they’d parked in. “Right now, you’re talking Latin.”

“Seriously?” she demanded.

“Mmm,” the Doctor hummed.

She went to test it with a vendor, had a good laugh over being Welsh, or speaking it at least, and rejoined the group.

“Is it always like this?” She demanded.

“What?” the Doctor asked, hand firmly in Rose’s.

“This,” she said and helplessly gestured at a very rare loss for words. “Exciting. New.”

How inadequate were those words? But then she’d never been very good with that sort of thing, expressing herself.

“Oh, yes,” Rose agreed and walked up next to her. “New sky overhead, new ground beneath your feet! Even if we’ve been to Rome before, we haven’t been _here._ Not this place, not in this time. Not with new friends.”

And damn if the warmth of friendship didn’t make her giddy.

“Why not? I mean,” Donna frowned. “You wouldn’t just what was it? Cross over your own visit?”

“Nope.” Rose shook her head. “The TARDIS makes sure of that.” She paused and a haunted look clouded her eyes. “Mostly. Unless…but no. No crossing over your own timeline.”

Donna hadn’t a clue as to how that even worked, and didn’t think she wanted to know. Nope. Because today she was in Ancient Rome. Not playacting. Not visiting a museum or ruins. She was really, really in Rome! 

“Last time we didn’t get the chance to look around properly,” the Doctor said with a significant look at Rose.

“Hey, not my fault!” she laughed and bumped shoulders with him. Clearly a longstanding argument. 

And God, he looked happy. So very different than the first time she’d met him. Donna was half tempted to ask what that thing on his face was. That _smile_. A smile that seemed to be only for Rose and that look in his eyes when he watched her.

Considering the last time (first time) she’d meet him, it looked scary—surreal at the very least.

“I’m fine,” Donna heard Jack say to Martha with a little nod. She’d missed their conversation, didn’t know what was wrong with Jack or if he had bad memories of Rome—ancient or otherwise—but the concern in Martha’s face was undeniable.

“We need to get that dessert, too,” Rose said with a worried look to the other couple as the five of them meandered out of the parking, er, area?

What did one call the spot the TARDIS set down? Was it even parking? Landing? Donna shook her head. Did it matter? They were in Ancient Rome!

“Ohh, the honey nut one.” The Doctor licked his lips. “Yes, that was tasty.”

“It’s dates and nuts cooked forever in the fire and drizzled with honey,” Rose explained. “It’s delicious. With pine stones?” 

“Stone pine kernels,” the Doctor said and nodded. “Indigenous to the Mediterranean, prized for its kernels, and also instrumental in the Italian Renaissance garden, the Italian stone pine tree has also earned the Royal Horticultural Society’s Award of Garden Merit.”

“Well,” Donna said and shook her head. “At least it has _merit_.”

“It’s delicious,” Rose insisted and grinned at the Doctor. “The Doctor ate a half dozen of them last time we were here.”

“Well.” He sniffed at the comment. “They were small.”

Donna laughed. She didn’t have any stories to share, but didn’t feel left out, either. It was a nice feeling, this inclusion. Strange. New. Different. _Nice._

“I’ll make you the banana-banana bread you like,” Martha offered. “I’ll even find these stone pine nuts and add them in.”

“You’re a star, Martha,” the Doctor praised to more laughter.

“So, Rome,” Donna said, looking around. “What year is this?”

“Just in time to see the Coliseum, the Pantheon,” the Doctor said and straightened, turning his head this way and that and frowning.

“Circus Maximus,” Jack added in his normal jovial voice contrary to the worry on both Martha’s and Rose’s faces. “Never managed to make it to Rome,” he told them and took Martha’s hand as if he’d done so a hundred times before.

Donna suddenly wished she had pockets to stuff her hands in. Or someone’s hand to hold.

“Yeah, you’d expect them to be looming by now,” the Doctor frowned. “Where is everything? Come on, let’s try this way.”

“Not an expert,” Donna said as they walked into an open area market. “But there’s Seven Hills of Rome, aren’t there? How come they’ve only got one?”

And of course that was when the earth shook. 

“Pompeii,” the Doctor said in a strangled voice.

His entire demeanor changed. Forget the relaxed happy man who smiled as if he often did so. He paled, body tense, and hand still wrapped around Rose’s dragged her a few feet forward as if it offered him a better vantage point.

“We’re in _Pompeii_.” He whirled to face them again and he looked terrified. “And it’s volcano day.”

“This is _not_ my fault!” Jack exclaimed immediately. His own panicked gaze swung between the Doctor and Rose and back again.

“Doctor,” he said, voice rising in more than panic, “I swear I had nothing to do with this!”

“Why would you?” Martha demanded.

“ _How_ could you?” Donna demanded.

Martha gasped. “What about those missing memories?” she asked, insisted maybe, but her voice hurt—hurt Donna the way she said the words as if every syllable scrapped over broken glass.

“No.” Jack’s voice cracked.

What had she missed? What the hell did Jack have to do with volcanoes?

He shook his head, but didn’t seem certain. In fact, he looked pale, sick to his stomach, a little green around the gills. Maybe she needed to do a little more research into the people she ran off with before, well, running off with them.

“I don’t think…no,” Jack repeated firmer now. Still nauseous looking, but confident in that at least. Whatever _that_ was.

“I’ve never been,” he insisted. “And even when I was with the Agency, I never did anything like this. This far back on ancient Earth wasn’t my specialty. That—the cons—none of that was until…after.”

He took a ragged breath and sagged. Donna watched the Doctor tense in direct relation to Jack’s sagging. It unnerved her. She’d seen the Doctor angry—so furious he was ready to take down an entire species. Had done.

And she’d seen him devastated. Standing in the wet snow looking lost and oh so alone.

This? Terrified her.

“It’s not Jack,” Rose said slowly as they watched Vesuvius plum smoke in a terrible harbinger of things to come. “Then it’s just the volcano. Is it—” she swallowed and licked her lips. “Is it fixed?”

“Yes. We’re going.” The Doctor didn’t wait for anyone to respond. He tightened Rose’s hand and they ran back to the TARDIS.

Which wasn’t there.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pompeii was an eye-opener for Donna. And a reality-check for Rose.

“But that’s what you do,” Donna had pleaded. “You’re the Doctor. You save people!”

“Not this time,” the Doctor had said and he looked sick.

Rose had wanted to comfort him, but there was no comforting. Not this time. She tightened her fingers around his and held tightly. For now, it was all she was able to do. She didn’t know what to say, or if there were even any words to say.

“Pompeii is a fixed point in history,” he said, the words needles along her skin. He looked broken. Devastated. “What happens, happens. There is no stopping it.”

Then he and Jack had run back into the market square, both frantically searching for the TARDIS.

“We can save all these people!” Donna had insisted to Rose and Martha after the Doctor shot her down.

“I’m sorry, Donna,” Martha had whispered, broken and sick, her voice cracking. “I’m so sorry. We can’t.”

“We can’t. And we won’t.” Saying the words had bile rising in her throat but she hastily swallowed it down.

She wanted to change this, she did, oh God she did. But the Doctor and Jack were right—the destruction of Pompeii was not changeable and all these people, who even now went about their normal lives, were destined to die.

Rose swallowed hard and fought back tears at the unfairness of it all. They needed to leave. 

“But—” Donna said.

“No,” Rose snapped, harsher than she’d normally be.

It infuriated her that Donna thought she could convince Rose and Martha to change the Doctor’s mind—behind the Doctor’s back. What sort of family did Donna think they were? It’d taken months, hard months of trust and love and conviction, but they were a _family_. And they were honest with each other. Always. 

As if it was easy to do. To leave. To abandon these people, 20,000 people, to their fiery fate. 

The scene played in her mind like a movie—over and over. She’d been horrible to Donna.

Rose stepped from the shower and squeezed the water from her hair. Quickly dressing in clothes that didn’t smell of soot and ash and fire and death, she turned for the far end of their bedroom and the stone and iron balcony.

“It’s not your fault,” she insisted from behind the Doctor.

“Isn’t it?” he asked.

The Doctor didn’t turn around. He continued to stare out at the hot, open landscape of a TARDIS-rendered Gallifrey, their current bedroom view. His hands were stuffed in his pockets and he was closed off mentally and physically.

“No,” Rose snapped.

She sucked in a deep breath and stepped onto the balcony. Standing next to him, she watched the bleak landscape he loved and waited a beat. Swallowed past the lump of fear and pain and horribleness and spoke.

“It wasn’t a choice,” she whispered.

He abruptly leaned forward, hands gripping the balcony railing until his knuckles shone white. Shoulders hunched, body tense, he let out a ragged breath.

“It was my choice.”

“No!” she snapped again. “That wasn’t a choice. If you hadn’t…if you and Donna—” Rose shook her head. “I wanted to be there with you,” she whispered. “You shouldn’t have made that choice alone. I should’ve been there with you. For you.”

“Rose—”

She shook her head again, this time cutting him off. “I know I promised. I know I did,” she repeated, nodding. “But I can’t. I can’t do it again. I can’t leave you like that, run away, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t leave you, even if it might be safer.”

The Doctor turned and that completely broken look slowly vanished under love and concern for her. Under worry and fear. That was not what Rose wanted to change his expression to.

“Martha was hurt,” Rose whispered and took a step forward. Then another. “She was sliced by the sisterhood’s knives—deeply. I agreed to go back to the TARDIS with her because I’d promised you I’d stay safe and clearly with a knife-wielding cult after us I wasn’t safe. But that left you and Donna _alone_.”

“You were safe.” The words cracked between them. “That’s all that matters.”

“And you were alone!” she shot back. “Donna doesn’t understand, she—” again Rose cut herself off with a quick jerk of her head. “What happened in the volcano?”

“Lucius said Pyrovillia was lost,” the Doctor whispered, and the words sounded as if they’d been torn from his throat.

Tentatively Rose placed her hand over his. The Doctor immediately turned his over and grasped it like a lifeline. Something within her loosened at the touch, desperate as it was.

“Lost how?” Rose asked.

“I don’t know.” He moved his shoulders restlessly. “I don’t know enough about Pyrovian history.” He looked up, sniffed and slowly released his breath. “I’ll have the TARDIS look into it. But they wanted to transform Earth—make it into a new home for them.”

“They were going to kill everyone. Not just Pompeii, but the entire planet.” Rose shuddered. “All of history.”

“Yeah. Mutate humans—the energy converter was complete; it took the lava, used the power to create a fusion matrix. Would’ve melded Pyrovile to human.”

He breathed deeply again and slowly uncurled is other hand from its death grip around the railing. In one smooth move he turned to lean against the balcony and tugged her into his arms, hands resting on her hips.

“Made the _choice_ —” and he spat the word—“quite clear.”

“Clear,” Rose repeated softly. “But not easy.”

“No.” The word caught in his throat and she waited as he swallowed hard against the emotion. “Twenty thousand for untold billions,” he said, voice ragged and sharp and jagged. “Trillions. For the entirety of human history. Gallifrey all over again.”

He stopped and when he spoke again it was in a beloved Northern voice that sounded just as broken, just as shattered. “I didn’t just watch it happen. I made it happen. Again.”

“Doctor,” Rose breathed and cupped his face, forced him to look at her. “You had to,” she said, close to tears. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. Her crumpled and the tears fell. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Alone.

“Donna understood then,” he admitted, the words harsh. “I destroyed another person who travels with me.”

“No,” Rose said and wondered if she’d ever be able to convince him he did what needed to be done because no one else did. No one else could. No one else cared enough to.

“Doctor, you didn’t. I—I did.” Rose took a deep breath, it hurt but she pushed past it and admitted what had happened. “We argued. When you and Jack went to find the TARDIS, Donna tried to convince me to change your mind. I did just as rubbish a job at explaining as you did.”

She sighed and closed her eyes against more tears. “I need to apologize to her. I need to explain.”

“She was the one to convince me to save Caecilius and his family,” the Doctor admitted, pressing his forehead to hers. “I was going to leave them to die. I was going to leave everyone.”

“Donna is compassionate,” Rose admitted and felt even worse for her treatment of the other woman. “It’s why you offered her a trip in the TARDIS, yeah? Because she cares, she wants to help. She’s not out for gain.”

She took another breath. “I need to apologize.”

“First I need to make sure you and the baby are all right.”

The Doctor pulled back, but she knew he didn’t pull away—not from her. His lips were firm against hers, an all too brief touch.

Rose didn’t protest. She didn’t need their bond to know he was terrified for her and the baby. She simply entwined their hands tightly together and led him from their bedroom to the infirmary where she heard Martha and Jack talking in quiet voices.

“How’re you feeling?” Rose asked as they stepped inside.

“Fine,” Martha said with a shrewd look. “This one here refuses to believe that.”

“Martha,” Jack said, voice bordering on annoyed fear. “The sisterhood cut you! Your arms dripped blood!”

“And you and Rose took care of that,” Martha said in a calm voice that belied the pain and fear she’d spoken with earlier when Rose and Jack rushed her to the TARDIS. Despite all three of their wishes, Martha needed medical attention.

“Up,” the Doctor ordered and lifted Rose onto the wide exam table.

Rose watched Martha bat Jack’s hands away and stand. She stilled for a moment then nodded as if in agreement with herself. Rose resisted a smile. She was far too drained for that and the night wasn’t over.

Rose patiently waited while the Doctor and Martha fussed over her. Jack held her hand but none of them said a word as the computer beeped and the medical scanners did their thing. Finally, and very reluctantly, the Doctor declared her healthy. Tired but no harm to either her or the baby.

“I need to find Donna,” Rose said in the unusual, unnatural silence of the room. 

He nodded very, _very_ reluctantly.

“I’m getting a shower,” Martha announced, wrinkling her nose at her blood stained top.

“I’ll join you,” Jack said and wagged his eyebrows.

It produced the obligatory laugh. But Jack’s voice was still hoarse and threaded with fear. Martha took his hand, leaned her head against his shoulder, and they disappeared.

Rose turned to the Doctor and kissed him, let it play out with slow sweeps of her tongue and mingled breath. She owed it to all of them—Donna, their newly formed dynamic, herself and the Doctor, but especially Donna—to apologize.

 ********  
“I’m sorry.”

Rose stood in Donna’s doorway and watched the other woman. She looked freshly showered, her hair hanging in damp, wavy strands over her shoulders, face devoid of makeup. She’d changed into a pair of loose yoga pants and a plain t-shirt and didn’t look as if she planned to leave her room anytime soon.

That was her fault.

Before Pompeii and Vesuvius and stone aliens trying to reorder the world to their own liking, Rose thought Donna might be a friend. Now? After her own blow up? Rose wasn’t so certain.

“It’s all right,” Donna said. A platitude. A brush off.

Unfortunately, Donna didn’t understand all that had really happened in Pompeii and Rose knew that. Their argument hadn’t been in the least pleasant. She hadn’t been pleasant. Taking a deep breath, Rose motioned down the hall.

“Walk with me?”

Donna reluctantly nodded and they started down the corridor toward the gardens. Rose needed a walk in them, needed the openness and (TARDIS-generated) breeze and the scent of freshness and life.

She really wanted to wrap herself around the Doctor and hold him. Pompeii’s death—the 20,000 caught in the path of the volcano—none of that was his fault. It wasn’t.

He didn’t believe it.

“The Doctor is rubbish at explaining things until they’re right on top of you,” she said as they meandered down the dimly lighted hallway. “There’s no time traveler’s manual on what to do or not do, what to expect.”

Donna offered a weak laugh but it bolstered Rose.

“And then he rushes through it with all these words but he—” Rose broke off and shook her head. “It’s not an excuse. I didn’t mean to blow up at you like I did.”

After a moment Donna asked, “What’s a fixed point in time?”

“It’s a moment that should never, ever be altered. Ever.” Rose shuddered but took a deep breath. She’d explain. She had to, after what she’d said to Donna.

After what she _screamed_ at Donna.

They arrived at the gardens and Rose waved her hand over the door’s scanner. It opened instantly and she stepped in, breathing the fresh air and tilting her face to the sun. Her preferred deck chairs were still laid out, four of them, and she gestured to Donna to take a seat.

If Donna stayed with them, Rose needed to find another chair. She couldn’t remember where she found these four and suspected they’d appeared shortly after her return.

Before she’d been trapped (lost? Gone? Over there? On the other side? Was there a proper terminology for what had happened to her?), Rose and the Doctor simply picnicked in here. Stretched out on a blanket and enjoyed the gardens, the food…each other.

“There are certain points in history that are fixed,” Rose said and stretched out on the chair beneath the wide umbrella.

It felt good to lay back. Fatigue tugged her limbs—the hot shower had felt heavenly on her muscles, but hadn’t lessened the tiredness that plagued her for weeks.

“Events that can’t be changed. Changing them will create a weak point,” she said, trying to demonstrate with her hands. “It’s like you have a frozen lake—” she spread her hands out on her legs, to show a lake. “And it’s solid clear across. But there’s this one spot that’s not quite as frozen over as the rest.”

Rose pressed down on her imaginary frozen lake. “That one spot is fixed. You’d think it’d be stronger than the rest, because it can’t be changed, but it’s not. It’s weaker because it’s so important and _shouldn’t_ be changed.”

She pressed harder into the top of her leg, watched her own loose yoga pants indent. “It’s important because it’s connected to so many other events. Change that one event—a volcano explosion or saving a person instead of letting them die—and reality splinters.”

Rose closed her eyes and breathed shallowly. She hadn’t been sick when they returned to the TARDIS, but quickly downed a glass of ginger-mint iced tea. It had settled her stomach but hadn’t melted the ball of ice lodged there.

She opened her eyes and watched the other woman play through the explanation—calmly told and with time for questions—and compare it to the shouting match they’d had nearly the entire time the five of them were in the city.

“You said you never wanted to see a reaper again,” Donna ventured, but her shoulders weren’t so stiff and her voice a little more compassionate. She stood and moved her chair closer beneath the umbrella. Rose took that as a positive sign. “What are they?”

Rose shuddered, but told her. She told her all of it—her dad, saving him, weak points in time, reapers, the Doctor’s death—every single thing she’d done at the time. When she finished, Donna looked like she was going to be physically ill.

“That’s why I screamed at you. That’s why I lost my temper and my control. The Doctor said he couldn’t change it, but he never says why.”

Rose breathed deeply and hoped the tea was enough to keep her stomach calm.

“I knew why. Know why. And I _never_ ,” she swore, locking eyes with Donna, “ever want to experience that again.”

“At the end,” Donna said slowly, eyes unfocused on the grass between them, “I realized that. I think—after Jack dragged you back to the TARDIS and carried Martha, and the Doctor went into the caverns…I understood. A little. I think when I first brought it up, when I first wanted to save everyone,” she continued haltingly, “I wanted to think the Doctor just didn’t want to help.”

Donna let out a shaky laugh. “I know better,” she insisted. “I do.”

Donna raised her gaze to Rose’s and in their depths Rose saw the pain at not saving everyone—at having to _choose_. The pain they had to deal with all the time. The pain the Doctor internalized so completely it nearly tore him apart—in the beginning, it nearly tore _them_ apart.

“All I saw was the chance to save all those people.”

“I don’t know what would’ve happened if you did,” Rose admitted quietly. She also didn’t want to think about it. The thought terrified her. Cold and creeping, it yawned beneath them like the deepest of pits.

“I don’t know the threads that stem out from Vesuvius,” she added quietly. She spread her fingers wide, wrists touching. “But I do know that once a weak point happens, it’s never good.”

Her hands drifted over her belly and Rose bit her lip. “The Doctor didn’t handle it well, I’m afraid. He’s a little on edge.”

She almost snorted at that. Talk about understatements! On edge? She’d be lucky to talk him into letting her leave the TARDIS to visit the Jones’s.

Just the Winston came from nowhere and leaped onto her lap. He snuggled against her small bump and purred contentedly.

“Hey, Winston,” she cooed.

He nuzzled her hand and looked at her almost adoringly. Rose eyed him, but he merely closed his eyes and dozed. He’d been acting weird ever since she became pregnant. Rose wondered if he and the Doctor came to a strange agreement over her safety.

“You have a cat?” Donna asked, dumbfounded.

“Yeah,” Rose said softly, still scratching Winston’s neck. “Winston. We found him in London, 1941 during the Blitz.”

Donna blinked, mouth slightly open. Rose tried not to laugh. “Of course you did,” Donna muttered.

Taking a deep breath, she looked from her cat to Donna and said, “I’m pregnant.”

Donna’s eyes widened almost comically. Her gaze darted from Rose’s face to her belly and Winston, and back again.

“Not long, only a couple months, the Doctor can tell you exactly, but yeah.” Rose smiled in unfettered joy as the knowledge uncurled within her. Warmed the ice a potential paradox had settled in her belly.

Rose refused, absolutely refused, to tell Donna she’d had to talk the Doctor into giving Donna that one trip. She and Donna had a lot in common—so, so much in common, and it’d taken Rose traveling with the Doctor to find and hold onto her self-esteem. The trust that came with someone keeping their word.

She wouldn’t do that to Donna.

Just because she was pregnant and the Doctor was more than a little overprotective and their lives were never really safe and still to begin with, didn’t mean she’d deprive Donna of learning all she could be. Of the amazing experiences traveling with the Doctor offered.

“The Doctor’s a little…” Rose paused. “Overprotective? What’s overprotective times a thousand?”

Donna snorted. “I noticed, yeah.”

“We haven’t really explored since we found out,” Rose admitted.

The door opened and she turned, motioned for Martha to join them.

“Our first trip out of the Vortex, or to a place with even a hint of danger, was to help Martha and Jack with the computer at Adipose.” Rose frowned. “The Doctor wasn’t happy with the whole gun thing.”

“He said you were lost,” Donna ventured, once more uncertain.

“I was in another world,” Rose said shortly. Not meanly, but she didn’t want to elaborate. Not then. One difficult explanation per day, please. “The walls between universes had closed and we were separated.”

“I saw him after he’d lost you,” Donna added as Martha pulled up another chair beneath the umbrella. “I’d never seen anyone want to die.”

Rose’s breath caught. She knew what happened; they’d talked about it of course. But hearing it from Donna _hurt_. The warmth just beginning to return to her fingers disappeared with Donna’s admission.

“Yeah.” Rose cleared her throat. “It wasn’t a good time for either of us. But I’m back now. The Doctor…doesn’t deal well with me being in danger.”

Martha laughed, a short sound filed with knowing mirth and understanding and the underlying fear they all carried with them every time they stepped out of the TARDIS. “And that was before you were pregnant.”

“I’m surprised he let you out,” Donna said. “Now that you are, I’m surprised he lets you out of his sight.”

“He almost didn’t,” Rose admitted.

Martha snorted. “Between him and Jack, you’re lucky you’re still walking on your own.”

Donna laughed and just like that, the tension vanished.

Donna and Martha teased her about overprotective husbands, and more laughter and more stories—what Martha did at UNIT, how her family reacted when they found out about the traveling, a bit about Rose’s life in the other world. Everything and nothing.

It was relaxing and soothing and helped appease Rose’s nerves.

In the back of her mind, Rose felt the Doctor’s anxiousness, but not to the point he was going to run in and break up the impromptu gathering to carry her off to their bedroom. She closed her eyes and blew him a kiss, felt his mental smile—a caress along their bond.

“You should join us for yoga,” Rose said as she opened her eyes and refocused on her friends. “Martha and I do it every morning.”

Donna scowled. “Not much for yoga,” she admitted. “Then again,” she added slowly, “I was never one for running, either.”

Martha laughed. “It’s easier than running, at least the running-for-your-life we tend to do.”

The door swooshed open again and with it the scent of pizza. Oh, it smelled heavenly. Rose’s stomach growled—she was starved.

“We went to Pizza Planet,” Jack called as they walked in with the futuristic recyclable pizza boxes.

“There’s an actual pizza planet?” Donna demanded.

“No,” the Doctor said, tugging his ear. “That’s just what they—” he waved a hand between her and Jack— “call it.”

“Because it has the best pizza anywhere,” Rose injected and scooped out a steaming slice.

“And,” Martha added, “it’s the only thing we do there. A whole planet, but I’ve never seen more than the market high street where this pizza’s sold.”

“If you have a time and space machine,” Rose said and grinned at Jack.

“Then why not use it to find the best pizza in the universe?” Jack finished.

The Doctor rolled his eyes, as he had been since the three of them originally traveled together. But Rose tugged him down and kissed him softly. She felt his concern, his fear, his pleasure at being by her again, his love.

“We’re fine,” Rose said. And meant her and the baby, and her and Donna, and the five of them.

He hummed and nodded and scooped out a slice of pizza with the mushrooms he liked, the ultra-stinky ones native to the pizza planet. Rose wrinkled her nose but the Doctor winked at her.

“I love you,” he mouthed just before he bit into the slice.

She grinned back at him and ate her own slice—plain until she figured out if the baby (and her heartburn) liked it enough to add toppings.

Mouth full, she took his hand and used the touch to pour all her love and affection for him through their bond.

_I love you, too._


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor isn’t giving up on finding that elusive gap between universes. Even if Rose is there to distract him.

“How long is this going to last?” Rose asked, taking deep breaths of the cool, peppermint-scented air.

“The pregnancy?” the Doctor asked, rubbing her back soothingly and watching her closely, his body a steadying presence against hers. “Or the dizziness?”

“Both.”

“You’re already past four months, Rose,” the Doctor reminded her gently. “Past your first trimester.”

Assuming her pregnancy was around the 12 month mark as he and Martha speculated.

He shifted until she leaned against him, a little more upright than previously. He brushed her hair off her forehead and tucked it behind her ear. “You’ve just been dizzy? No sickness, right?”

No, she hadn’t been sick in over a week. Thank God. Not only had being sick absolutely sucked, but it worried the Doctor. And a worried Doctor _hovered_. He became even more protective.

But she’d been dizzy. The spells didn’t last long and the TARDIS pumped mint-scented air (and warm reassurance) into whatever room she was in when they happened. He never said anything—an improvement in Rose’s opinion—but the Doctor never let her out of his sight after and always held her.

Today, she was unbearably grateful for that. She needed his touch. The simple physical contact of his hand in hers. Though this morning when they made love and he pressed up behind her, moved within her, Rose felt whole and content and loved, oh so loved, and sickness was the absolute last thing on her mind.

Now the Doctor took a deep breath and released it slowly, settling her more fully on the jumpseat. He bent to lift the light blanket from where it fell to the grating and spread it over her legs. His fingers brushed hair back from her face and lingered on her cheek.

“The initial scans I’ve run show you should have a normal human pregnancy, though I’m quite certain it’ll last just a bit over the requisite nine months.”

Rose nodded and leaned into his touch. He pressed his lips to hers and stepped back. He was learning, she thought fondly and smiled at him when he gave her enough space for the both of them to be happy. Baby steps.

Rose heard all this before of course—her pregnancy was his new favorite subject. If Martha also happened to be in the room? Rose was lucky to escape with only an earful of Gallifreyan-Human hybrid pregnancy information she learned to tune out.

She didn’t even want to think about the journal. Journals. It was nearly impossible to escape their medical talk without one or both of them whipping out the journals they kept to discuss whatever aspect of her pregnancy they currently focused on.

Nonetheless, she let him prattle on. It seemed to help the Doctor and eased the knot of fear inside her. Fear? No, concern…yes, concern was a better word.

After all, she’d never been pregnant before.  
And there’d never been a Human-Gallifreyan pregnancy before.

“Is it safe being in the Vortex?” she suddenly asked and cursed herself for not asking before. “That background radiation, what’s it? The stuff that opened the Dalek arc thingy. Is it safe for the baby?”

He looked at her with that look that said _Please, like I haven’t already thought of that. And a hundred other potential problems. And neutralized every single one of them._

Rose raised an eyebrow. “I know you’d never endanger either of us,” she said, hands cupping the small mound of her pregnancy. Six months, about halfway along, and her bump wasn’t all that big. Yet.

In a blink he knelt before her. His hand tangled in her hair, fingers cupping the back of her head. “Never,” he breathed against her lips.

Slowly, reluctantly, he stood again and returned to the console where the scans he ran almost continuously since her return remained blank.

“Still nothing?” Rose nodded to the console and settled more comfortably in the jumpseat.

Today she was cold. Yesterday it’d been sweats and nausea, but no actual vomiting, and please don’t touch me—but don’t leave me, either. The Doctor held her, lying with her as she whimpered pathetically. Just barely touching her, cold cloths over her face and neck, his cooler body along her back when she tolerated his touch, his voice a steady hum as he told her stories about his travels and previous companions and even a little more about life on Gallifrey.

She felt better today, and now all she wanted was to curl into the Doctor’s side and lay her head on his chest, his hearts beating beneath her ear and let him hold her. Feel his touch on her, his bare skin under her lips.

God, she wanted him. Despite yesterday’s weakness, and the brief bout of dizziness from moments ago, the nausea abated. Or it could’ve been the mint and ginger tea.

No matter. She watched the Doctor at the console, his brown pinstripe trousers tight across his hips and arse. She slowly licked her lips and forced her gaze away from his bum. They were talking about a very important topic and she had enough poise, enough self-control, enough maturity to pay attention through her own arousal.

Lies. All lies.

She had no control when it came to her husband.

These pregnancy hormones sweeping through her like wildfire destroyed whatever small hold she retained over her body. Rose cleared her throat and settled a blanket over her bare legs. She’d worn a long-sleeved dress, tight across her breasts then flaring over her belly; she was still chilly but unable to tolerate too much material against her sensitive skin.

She could focus. Really.

Closing her eyes, she leaned her head on one hand, mug in the other and sipped the tea. It was the best tea she ever tasted. Or, as the Doctor pointed out, it was the best because it was the only drink she’d thus far been able to keep down.

Party pooper.

“No,” he said, but he drew the word out as if even he wasn’t sure.

Rose struggled to focus back on their conversation. Very important, this conversation. She could jump him later.

“Well,” he said and turned to face her, one hand combing wildly through his hair.

How was that move, the simple act of ruffling his hair, such a turn on? Seriously, his hand combing through his hair, making it stick up in all directions should not make her want him.

Again.

Not one damn bit.

“Yes and no,” he continued head tilting from one side to the other.

He spoke as if he had no idea how his actions affected her. Sometimes her Doctor was a little oblivious. It was endearing. And sexy as all get out.

“Have you asked Harriet?” Rose asked, hands lightly running over her baby bump. “When you came back from talking with her at Christmas, didn’t you say she was working on something?”

“Yes,” the Doctor agreed. “She’s working with Sarah. Last I heard, Harriet was doing something with a subwave network.”

He sighed and shook his head, hand ruffling his hair again. “But that’s not for inter-universal communications.”

“Still,” Rose protested, heart pounding at even the thought of a way to contact that other Earth. She swallowed and tried to clear the knot of hope in her throat. “Still, it’s worth a look, yeah?”

“I’ll contact her,” he promised. “But I’ve traced your mysterious phone calls—nothing,” he said with a frustrated sigh. “Meaning they’re untraceable which isn’t possible.”

Rose snorted. When he offered a baleful glare she simply grinned at him. And took the opportunity to run her tongue over her bottom lip in a slow swipe. His eyes zeroed in on the movement and he cleared his throat.

Point for her.

“They’re untraceable,” he said again and closed the space between them, sitting beside her and stretching her legs across his lap. “ _In this universe_ ,” he added—corrected—as his fingers lightly massaged her calves.

Rose stopped breathing. All thoughts of seduction banished. Or at least pushed slightly to one side. For the moment.

“What does that mean?” Her heart hammered in her chest and it hurt to breathe over the sudden flare of hope.

He squeezed her calves lightly and continued his massage for long, wonderful minutes. Then his touch changed, slid up her bare calves, the inside of her bare thighs.

Her breath stopped and she once again struggled to concentrate.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, fingers still tracing random patterns on her skin. “I suppose it could mean Jackie or Mickey are trying to contact you from their universe. If they use the hole you jumped through as a means, kind of like a signal boost, it might work.”

The Doctor scrubbed one hand down his face and threaded his fingers with hers. “I don’t know, Rose,” he admitted again and Rose saw just how much not knowing upset him.

It was, she realized with a start, not because he didn’t know—he loved solving mysteries and learning something new. This upset him because he didn’t want his lack of knowledge to upset _her_. Get her hopes up.

“I’ve scanned every kilometer around Earth’s solar system so many times.” He sighed, a deep, heartfelt exhale of breath that told her more of his frustration and his wish to give her better news than a hundred words ever could.

“I’m sorry, Rose.” His hands tightened around her legs. “I don’t see any more of the gaps between universes. I don’t know how you managed to jump through without slamming into the walls or falling into the Void.”

His voice climbed with his frustration and darkened with his absolute terror for her. It throbbed in harsh discordance along their bond, like pinpricks of ice in her head and heart.

“You could’ve been lost in the Void,” he said, voice strained.

She hastily set her mug on the grating and sat up. Straddling his legs, Rose hiked up her dress, clasped his hands and gently placed them on the bare skin of her belly. He shuddered against her but instantly calmed, as the move had done each time.

That connection to her, not simply as a touch telepath and not only because of their bond, but the physical evidence that she was alive and whole and with him. And pregnant with their child. Their first.

“What about the disappearing stars?” she asked, unable to mask the hope—and terrible fear—in her question.

“We thought it was the destabilization caused by the disappearing stars that created the weakness in the first place. If there are no more gaps between universes,” she slowly continued, “does that mean the stars aren’t going out? They…returned?” Rose frowned but there really wasn’t a better way to phrase that.

“Lucius said Pyrovillia was lost,” the Doctor muttered, fingers caressing her belly.

He leaned in, face pressed to her neck, and breathed deeply. “I found no trace of it when I scanned, so I don’t know how it was lost.”

“How long ago was it lost? And how long ago was Poosh lost?”

The Doctor frowned, she felt it against the skin of her neck. Rose brought her hand to the back of his head and held him there for another long moment. Just held him. Eventually he breathed deeply and sat back.

“The fabled lost moon of Poosh,” he said and tried to smile. It was strained at best.

Their supposed relaxing vacation to Midnight had been anything but. His fingers lightly stroked her skin, tracing her name and his in Gallifreyan. It calmed them both.

“According to DeeDee it’s been missing for eons.” The Doctor resumed his caress of her belly. “I’ll see what the TARDIS databanks say about when they both disappeared, or were lost, see if they match up with Standard Time.”

“Any other planets go missing?” she asked.

His hands warmed against her skin and his thumbs continued to trace small circles over the swell of her belly. Dipped to the edges of her low cut knickers then back up. She was pretty much to the point where she didn’t even want to wear knickers—she could barely pull them up on her own as is and frankly even the super soft futuristic material rubbed her wrong. 

Her dress fell over his legs, obscuring the view of anyone who happened to walk in. Rose shivered and arched into his touch, her blood instantly heating. Eyes slipping shut, unable to stop the breathy moan, she rocked hard against his cock.

As far as Rose knew, Martha was making banana-banana bread and Jack was ‘helping’ her in the kitchen. She didn’t know where Donna was, presumably in the kitchen as well.

In the weeks since her talk-apology-friendship bonding with Donna, they hadn’t done much exploring. She’d been too sick and the Doctor too worried. Martha checked in on her every two hours, brining Jack and Donna with her, but in the end Rose suspected the three of them forged their own bond of friendship.

It made her happy to see a friendship between the three of them. To know that even if she and the Doctor weren’t there they formed a friendship based on things other than traveling.

But right now she and the Doctor were alone, just the two of them and their ship.

His fingers stilled. Rose forced her eyes open. “Doctor.”

But he looked at her strangely for a long minute, and she knew his mind flew off into a thousand calculations. Then he grinned and kissed her hard. “Brilliant woman you are, Rose Tyler.”

He lifted her off his legs and settled her back on the jumpseat, took a possessive moment to cover her with the dress, then leaped up and pushed buttons. He sprang around the console in a graceful dance and even now, as far as she could tell, began a new scan.

“It’ll take a while, big universe this,” he said and turned to lean against the console, arms folded.

“Assuming disappearing stars means the entire solar system disappeared as well,” he added with that far off look in his gaze. “Not sure it’s connected.”

“Can’t we just travel there?” Rose asked.

She shifted on the jumpseat, but her arousal didn’t abate. Curling her hands into fists—both to stop from reaching for the Doctor and to stop from touching herself—Rose cleared her throat and waited his answer.

“Well…” he tugged his ear and looked up at the high ceiling, tongue planted behind his teeth.

Wow. She hit the trifecta there with quirky Doctor mannerisms. 

“Assuming the missing moon didn’t just create a myth or rewrite the solar system, rewrite history, the TARDIS should be able to pinpoint if a star has gone—disappeared as you say.” He stopped, hands now stuffed in his pockets.

“I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense for a moon—or planet—to disappear.” He shrugged, still looking off and lost in thought, tongue pressed behind his teeth.

Rose nodded and carefully uncurled her hand, held it out to him. He pushed off the console and took it, tugging her to stand. His mouth was soft on hers, a press of his lips. He turned them; sitting again on the seat, the Doctor tugged her onto his lap once more.

“But since the TARDIS is a gorgeous multi-dimensional work of art,” he whispered against her neck, “I’m sure She can find something in time or space

His hands slipped beneath her dress, long fingers dancing up her spine and down again, cupped her bum, pressed her closer to his hardness. His tongue swept over hers, mouth slanting to deepen the kiss. Rose sighed into it, hips rocking against his.

“However will we pass the time while the TARDIS scans?” she asked coyly, fingers slipping between the buttons of his oxford to press against the Henley he wore beneath it.

Still layers, her Doctor. But at least he’d stopped wearing the blue suit. Oh, it’d been sexy on him, no doubt about it, but she preferred the brown pinstripes. That was how she remembered him. In her mind, it was brown pinstripes she pictured whenever she envisioned him as she’d worked to return.

And she’d accused the Doctor of not liking change.

“Do you think they’re okay?” she asked.

She’d been separated from her family for years. That plus the nightmares she had—continued to have—about using the cannon to jump through multiple universes to find the Doctor, and the unrest she witnessed on that parallel Earth; she hoped Pete’s position gave Jackie and Mickey and Tony protection.

She longed to see her family once more, to speak with them even. But they supported her in her mission. Mickey helped her calculate that first jump—really it was him that she and the Doctor needed to thank for such precision. Such faith.

And Jackie—her mum firmly believed in second chances after hers had been granted.

Plus, no one said no to Jackie Tyler. No matter what world they lived on.

They were strong and resourceful. Survivors, as her mum often told her, even before the Doctor ran into their lives. They’d be fine. They had to be.

The Doctor pressed his lips to her cheek and leaned back. His eyes were dark and serious but he answered honestly. “I don’t know. Jackie can survive anything,” he joked quietly and she smiled.

“But with disappearing stars? I don’t know. Did you notice any pattern to their disappearance?” he asked, fingers still moving up and down her spine in a slow dance of pleasure that made Rose shiver and arch further into his touch.

“Pattern?” she repeated and thought back to when it first started. “No, I don’t think so. By the time anyone noticed, outside the scientific community and amateur astronomers that is, too many stars disappeared.”

Rose frowned and sighed when the Doctor’s hands slipped up her belly, cupped her breasts. She arched into his touch, desire hot and heady. Rolling her hips against his, Rose scraped her nails along his scalp and struggled to remember all that happened.

“And then people panicked,” she remembered, voice breathless. His mouth kissed down her throat, little nips along the sensitive skin.

“But we were already working on the dimension cannon and mum was already badgering the engineers.” The Doctor drew back and they both smiled at that. “When the stars started going out we ramped up production—everything moved faster and I was in the cannon room so much I barely saw outside Torchwood.”

The Doctor squeezed her shoulder and Rose looked down at him. With the soft light of the console room and the soothing hum of the TARDIS and the here and now. He pressed his lips to hers.

“I’ll figure it out,” he promised. “ _We’ll_ figure it out, Rose. Together.”

She nodded, hips still rocking against his, hand still tangled in his hair. She knew. But it was frustrating and frightening. What if something happened to her family? What if they couldn’t get the cannon to work again? What if the Doctor couldn’t figure any of this out as they banked on when she first jumped?

There were so many what ifs, Rose didn’t want to think about them. She already worried, already stressed over all the things she didn’t know that went on in the other universe.

When she originally jumped, she hadn’t counted on not being able to communicate with them or on not being able to jump back. Hadn’t counted on living her life— _their_ life—and not knowing anything about her family.

Then again, she really hadn’t expected to find the Doctor on the first jump and hadn’t the chance to see if the disappearing stars spanned universes or not. And now, they still hadn’t a way to contact anyone there to help.

“I promise, Rose,” the Doctor whispered. “I promise you we’ll find a way to communicate with them. We’ll figure out what’s going on with the stars and help. I promise.”

“I know.” She trusted him implicitly and knew that shone along their bond.

He held her quietly for several long minutes, the soft hum of the TARDIS the only sound between them. She breathed deeply and tried to release the tension knotting her back and shoulders, coiling nauseatingly through her stomach.

Rose pressed her lips against the side of his neck. His fingers gently massaged her shoulders and she relaxed, her body perfectly fitting against his. The Doctor shifted against her, brought them even closer, one hand cupping the nape of her neck.

His other hand slipped down her hips, lightly traced the edges of her knickers. Blood racing, her breath short and fast, Rose pulled back. Just enough to look at him, the heavy brown of his aroused gaze.

Not taking his eyes from hers, he pressed one finger against the thin material of her knickers with just enough pressure against her clit to send a surge of arousal shuddering through her. The touch, so light, so simple, burst through her with heat and need and _now_.

“Doctor,” she breathed, grinding down.

“Yes, my hearts. Let go.” He kissed down her neck, tongue tracing the tendons in slow deliberateness. “I want to taste your orgasm on your skin, breathe in your scent.”

Rose fumbled for his bare skin, desperate to feel the added touch of their connection. Over the months since their marriage their bond strengthened but touching the Doctor, feeling his skin against hers, always added to their intimacy.

“You’re beautiful, my Rose,” he breathed against her. “I want to spend days just tasting you. Breathing you in.”

His hand slipped inside her knickers, fingers easily teasing her slickness. He kept steady pressure on her clit, his fingers pumping into her far too shallowly for her liking. Rose whimpered, nails digging into his shoulders, moving with his touch.

“Open your eyes, Rose,” he commanded, his voice low and rough.

She blinked and looked at him, hips moving jerkily against his hand. She wanted him deeper, wanted all of him.

“I want to watch you,” he said, thrusting his fingers deeper now.

She would’ve grinned in triumph, but he curled them just right and she gasped, shuddered as her pleasure spiked. His other hand flattened on her back.

“I love watching you come. You’re so beautiful when you orgasm. The sounds you make. The feel of you around me.”

Her breath hitched, her hips moved faster. She didn’t want his fingers in her. She wanted his cock stretching her. Wanted to taste him, wanted to wrap her lips around him and watch him come undone. Wanted the feel of his body pressed to hers.

“I know, my hearts,” he said, voice a growl now. “I can feel everything you want.”

He spoke in Gallifreyan then, a string of words Rose only half caught— _I love you_ and _mine_ and _come for me_.

“Yes,” she said, her orgasm building, hot coils of pleasure wound so tightly and she moved harder against his fingers. “Yours,” she said, unsure if it was in English or Gallifreyan or if it even mattered.

Because he knew.

“Come for me, my Rose,” he said against her mouth, fingers twisting just right, pressed hard to her clit.

She shattered. Head thrown back, eyes clenched shut, she rode her orgasm, pleasure setting her nerves alight. More and more, his thumb flicked over her clit, fingers still thrusting into her, deeper and deeper and still, _still_ she wanted him insider her.

Finally, his fingers slowed, drawing out each shudder of her climax. Rose whimpered, gasped his name, shuddering and boneless and too sensitive, and the Doctor slowly withdrew. His fingers, sick with her pleasure, curled around her hip, held her against him.

Rose gasped for breath, flashes of electricity sparking over her skin. She curled her hands around his shoulders and buried her face against his neck. Breathed him in. Pressed her lips to his skin, trembling and sated and still hungry for more.

He tenderly drew her back, mouth lazy on hers, hands gentle on her hips, her back. His fingers stroked her spine, up and down with light touches. It took Rose a moment—longer—to realize she still moved against him, slow arches and lazy rolls of her hips against his straining cock.

“You’re so beautiful when you come, Rose,” he whispered. “So open, so unrestrained.” His teeth nipped her lower lip. “Your scent when you’re aroused is potent. I never want anything else. And when you come…”

He trailed off, deepened the kiss, taking and taking and more and harder. “It’s all for me. Mine. You’re mine Rose, and I love you, my hearts. More than anything in this universe.”

She kissed him, slow sloppy kisses as she struggled for breath. “I need you,” she moaned, the words catching. “I need to taste you,” she said, kissing down his neck, tongue savoring the skin beneath her lips.

The Doctor offered a wordless growl and picked her up. His hands cupped the backs of her thighs, just below her bum, and Rose wrapped her legs tighter around his waist. His cock throbbed against her and she whimpered against his mouth.

He carried her back to their rooms, mouth on hers. Fingers digging into her thighs, he pressed her closer. She wrapped herself around him and wordlessly promised him everything.

“This is the third time,” Donna muttered, eyes squeezed shut, pinching the bridge of her nose. “The _third time_ I’ve walked in on them. In the _console room_!”

“I did try to warn you,” Martha said with a long suffering sigh.

She looked at her new friend, at the pinched way Donna’s eyes most definitely did not follow Rose and the Doctor down the hall. Martha, long immune to their public displays of way too much affection, watched the Doctor—still kissing Rose, his hands beneath her dress and clearly on her arse—somehow also open their bedroom door.

At least their bedroom was close to the console—no long walk for the rest of them to witness.

“Trust me,” Jack said.

He clearly admired the Doctor’s skills as he blatantly watched the door close behind the couple. Or possibly the Doctor’s arse. Martha knew how he felt about her, but he also never made any excuses for his attraction to beautiful creatures.

She wouldn’t love him if he tried to. That was Jack, and that was the man she’d fallen for.

Jack turned and winked at Donna. “They used to be way worse.”

“How?” Donna asked, voice strangled. “How is that even—no.” She held up her hand in the universal sign for _‘Dear God stop I really, really don’t want to know’_. “Forget it.”

“Come on,” Jack said, grinning widely. He slung his arm around her shoulders then around Donna’s and steered them farther into the TARDIS. “Let’s explore.”

“I’m not exploring anything with you, lover boy,” Donna snapped.

Martha smothered a snicker. Clearly Donna was still traumatized. She really needed to start ignoring them—it was one of the first things Martha realized when Rose jumped her way back. The relationship between Rose and the Doctor was extremely passionate and definitely _not_ going away.

Better to accept and ignore than to let annoyance fester.

“I meant,” Jack said with a salacious grin, “the wardrobe room. Or the third storage room.”

“Or we could look for the second swimming pool,” Martha chimed in with a grin.

Donna jerked to a stop. “You have a _first_ swimming pool?”

Jack wagged his eyebrows. “Wanna go swimming?”

“Not with you, flyboy.”

“I promise he’ll be clothed.” Martha laughed. “This time!”

Donna scowled but looked intrigued at Martha. “Is he often naked?”

They’d spent days exploring the TARDIS together and sharing stories. Naturally, all of Jack’s ended with him in various states of undress. More generally, with him completely naked. It was a state Martha enjoyed. Jack was so comfortable with himself and his sexuality it eventually rubbed off on her. Allowed her to explore her own sexuality.

Martha shrugged. “It’s his preferred state of being.” She eyed her lover. “I don’t mind.”

“Check you out, Martha Jones,” Donna said with a wide smile. She glared again at Jack. “Still not interested.”

“Come on,” Martha said ad grabbed Donna’s hand and Jack’s. “Let’s go swimming. I bet if you’re nice to Her, we can have the TARDIS create a tropical paradise.”

“This ship can do that?” Donna shook her head. “Huh.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lunch. Girl talk. Invasion. Just another day in the life of…

“You know I can’t talk about what I do,” Martha sighed and simply looked at her sister.

Tish merely shrugged. “Then it makes the _how’s work_ conversation limited, Martha.”

“Work is fine,” Martha sighed and stabbed her chicken. Rose resisted a laugh. But cast an envious look at her friend’s food.

They all brought something: Tish offered the seasoned chicken breast, but Rose brought her own salad in addition to the Valsious Prime chocolate mousse. She felt like one of those people who always insisted they could never eat what everyone else was when really she wanted to try the delicious-smelling chicken. Rosemary and thyme and garlic and chicken broth—yum.

Her stomach roiled at the thought. She slowly chewed on another piece of kale.

“It’s…busy,” Martha said carefully.

Rose snickered. She met Sarah Jane’s gaze and saw the other woman try to hide her own smile.

“With large amounts of sitting and then bursts of running,” Martha continued carefully. Then she frowned and sighed. “And a surprising amount of paperwork,” she grumbled. “Seriously, the paperwork itself is a full time job. I thought emailing it to the appropriate UNIT heads was enough, but oh no—paper copies also need to be filed.”

Donna laughed. “Government filing system,” she said and shuddered. “Gotta be a nightmare. Redundancies and triplicate with computer back up now.” Donna frowned. “So much for the paperless age.”

“You have no idea,” Martha mumbled and chewed her chicken.

They stayed in, congregating at Sarah Jane’s for lunch since any restaurant they decided on would never work. Not with the number of alien references they threw around. Even Tish and Shonara, Leo’s girlfriend, asked surprisingly astute alien-related questions.

Hell Sarah Jane’s computer, Mr. Smith, made hourly sweeps of the house to look for listening devices. And invaders, which happened on a sadly unsurprising basis.

“Rose, have you decided on any names?” Tish asked in an obvious change in subject.

Rose looked up from her salad. She poked at it unenthusiastically, but given the vitamin injections and the bouts of dizziness, both the Doctor and Martha decided she needed to continue to eat light things. Like lettuce. Plus the greens helped with the vitamin absorption.

She really wanted pizza. Or chips. Both of which, naturally, now refused to stay down no matter how she begged the little one. The stupid bananas stayed down but her beloved chips? Oh no. Traitor.

“No,” Rose sighed. “It’s been…” she glanced at Martha who snickered into her baked chicken. Donna refused to meet her gaze and stared hard at her own meal, a knowing smirk played around her lips.

Rose resisted sticking her tongue out at her friends.

“We…can’t…” Rose paused and viciously stabbed her salad. She wasn’t even hungry but Donna, sitting on her left, turned her smirk into a glare and purposely cleared her throat.

Chewing on a bite of kale and spinach, she sighed again. “We can’t agree on names.”

“What she means,” Martha said to the group, clearly relishing this change of focus from her to Rose, “is they can’t agree on more than one name.”

It was the first time the six of them managed to get together since Christmas, since Donna joined them. And now she couldn’t do more than push her food around on her plate. It was depressing, reduced to eating lettuce. Even if the salad the Doctor made was delicious.

“How do you mean?” Sarah Jane asked and offered Rose a coconut flour roll.

Wheat bread also refused to stay down. So. Damned. Depressing.

But the coconut flour was surprisingly good, even if Rose really wanted grease. Which may have had more to do with her wanting greasy foods than with any actual craving. Nevertheless, she accepted the roll graciously and spread butter over one half.

Her cheeks heated and she didn’t look up when she answered. It wasn’t because she was embarrassed over the Doctor’s choices—choice. But she knew the looks her friends were going to give her.

And, okay, a part of her wanted to keep it private. The Doctor felt so much for her, loved her so much, admired her, even looked up to her that he wanted all their children, however many they had and whatever gender, to have her name.

“Rose,” she admitted on a sigh. “He wants to name all the children we have Rose.”

Instead of the laughter she expected, Tish, Shonara, and Sarah Jane looked at her in awed silence. It made Rose shift uncomfortably in her seat.

“That,” Shonara said and jabbed her fork in Rose’s direction, “is possibly the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard from a soon-to-be father.”

Rose blinked away her sudden tears and smiled at the other woman. They’d grown closer since Rose admitted she and the Doctor were trying to have a baby. Bonding over pregnancy woes and expectant fathers and stretch marks and various aches that came with her changing body.

More than that, they formed a true friendship—two women still trying to figure out what they wanted to do in this world. Or any other.

Smiling softly, that warm gooey feeling she often got when the Doctor spoke of his reasons for wanting their children to retain her name, Rose nodded. She ate in silence for a couple mouthfuls, watching her closest female friends.

Jack was with the Doctor and Alistair at UNIT doing who knew what, Leo was at work, and Doris had a previous engagement but promised to catch up with them later.

“I was thinking the goddesses of dawn,” Rose admitted.

She hadn’t even talked about her choices with the Doctor, which was probably a _huge_ breech of parents-to-be etiquette. She researched these names, however, trying to blend human and Gallifreyan ancestry.

The latter was damn near impossible, not the least of which because the Doctor adamantly refused any suggestion she made. However, between she and the TARDIS, Rose managed to come up with something.

Names that didn’t sound _too_ off the wall. She hoped.

“Like Aurora?” Sarah Jane asked.

Rose nodded. “And Ushas, Ostara, Thesan, Saranyu, Zorya, Uzume, Anpao…” She frowned. “There’s one more, I can’t remember.”

“Hausos,” Shonara told her, mouth open in surprise.

Rose nodded, yes that sounded right. She eyed Shoara but didn’t ask how her friend knew the various goddesses of dawn. Full of surprises that one.

“How many kids are you going to have?” Tish choked out and hastily sipped her wine.

Rose stuck with her mint and ginger tea. It was better all around. But oh, she missed wine. For that matter, she missed plain water.

“I don’t know,” she admitted softly.

Her hand drifted to her belly, about 29 weeks along now, and she wondered. How many kids _were_ they going to have? Did it matter? For the first time Rose didn’t care. They laughed and joked about the number, and Rose argued the Doctor down from thirteen…but did it matter?

Well, yes, thirteen sounded extreme.

She cleared her throat and looked up at her friends. “What do you think?” She paused and clarified, “About the names?”

“What are some of the names from the Doctor’s world?” Tish asked—and earned a sharp elbow from Martha.

Rose stared at Tish with a slight lift to her lips. “They’re not names the Doctor wants to use,” she only half lied.

Despite all the ways the Doctor had grown in the last year or so since her jump through universes (how long had it been? Rose hadn’t kept track—but somehow knew the Doctor knew to the exact _hour_ how long since she returned) he still didn’t talk much about Time Lords or Gallifrey. More so to her, now at least, but certainly not to anyone else.

She didn’t even think Donna knew the name of his home planet. Let alone what he’d been forced to do for the sake of the entirety of creation.

“It’s probably long and complicated,” Donna injected.

Rose glanced at her gratefully. Tish’s question was normal, obvious—curious. It wasn’t Rose’s place to explain the complexities of the Doctor’s home world or his reticence to talk about it despite any natural curiosity.

“Seriously,” Donna continued as if they discussion this a dozen times over and she repeated a tedious conversation. “What kind of society names their kids _the Doctor_? None. So it was obviously a long and needlessly complicated name that no one wanted to pronounce and they shortened it.”

“It’s true,” Sarah Jane added with authority. “I’ve met other Time Lords. They chose other names.”

A knot in her chest eased and Rose looked up again. She appreciated her friends’ coming to her rescue, but didn’t need it. She smiled over at Tish.

“He prefers things that blend us,” she said with perfect honesty. “Or things that we’ve created together.”

Tish nodded then leaned over the table. Very seriously, dark eyes focused, she said, “I better be Auntie Tish.”

Rose laughed, all thoughts of Gallifrey and the stress of naming a child gone. (She suggested not naming the kid until it was a teenager and letting them choose; but then they realized they’d have to call it something until then—naturally the Doctor suggested _Rose_.)

“Of course!” Rose grinned. She looked to Shonara. “I’d like it if you and Leo were aunt and uncle, too. I want Keisha to know her cousin.” She paused and added quietly, “You’re family. I want our children to know their family.”

“We’d really like that,” Shonara said. “And Keisha is already talking about being the big sister to your little one. Making lists and everything about what she wants to teach her—she’s hoping for a girl.” She shrugged and laughed. “I think being a _cousin_ will suit her just fine.”

“Good.” Tish nodded as if they settled a multi-billion dollar deal. “Since this one here—” she glared at Martha—“isn’t going to give me any more kids to spoil.”

“You can have your own kids,” Shonara retorted with a big smile. “Don’t let us stop you.”

“No.” Tish adamantly shook her head. “Not the same. Can’t give them back at the end of the day and those noisy toys are _annoying_!”

“I know,” Shonara said dryly. “Especially at six in the morning. Thank you for that drum set, Auntie Tish.”

“I hadn’t realized you and Jack were…” Sarah Jane trailed off with a wave of her hand.

“We’re…” Martha paused, head tilted, eyes on Sarah Jane. “We’re working a few things out.”

Sarah Jane nodded and let the subject go. Martha and Jack hadn’t returned to UNIT until they landed yesterday—they traveled with them instead. Rose assumed at first they missed the traveling, but Martha confided that she and Jack were working on their relationship.

Where they wanted it to be, what they wanted it to be. Who _they_ wanted to be. Jack wasn’t dying. Period. Whether or not he turned into the Face of Boe, he’d outlive Martha by ages. And after Cardiff and John Hart and Grey, after Jack in 1936, it was a long, long road. 

When they landed the TARDIS, the Doctor made certain only a couple days passed since Martha and Jack joined them. And as the couple was the official liaison to _The Doctor_ , all they had to say was that they were working with him and UNIT just nodded.

Rose had a feeling Alistair never reported the full extent of what the Doctor did in the TARDIS— i.e. Longest Road Trip Ever.

“And you, Donna?” Sarah Jane asked. “How are you enjoying the traveling?”

“There’s nothing like it,” Donna said immediately. “I can see why the Doctor keeps traveling, why he hasn’t stopped. It’s amazing, what’s out there.”

Rose grinned and finished her salad. Then helped herself to another coconut roll. Or two. “Is there any place or anyone you’d like to see?”

They had the talk about changing things and crossing one’s own timeline—Donna understood and hadn’t asked about seeing her dad one last time. It hurt Rose that Donna couldn’t, but knew from experience it was best all round.

It was far too tempting to change things.

“Agatha Christie,” Donna said immediately.

“Ohh,” Rose agreed.

“Nice one,” Martha chimed in.

“Did you meet anyone famous?” Donna asked Sarah Jane.

Before the other woman answered, Martha’s phone rang. Then Rose’s. Sarah Jane’s computer beeped at her.

“Doctor?” Rose asked into the phone.

“Rose, I’m sending Private Ross to pick you and Martha up from Sarah Jane’s,” he said without any of his usual greeting. “I need you back here at UNIT.”

Frowning, she nodded and pushed back her chair. He didn’t sound worried—rather she hadn’t felt anything worrying from him, simply the constant hum of their connection. But he did sound concerned and she wondered what happened. And why she only felt the constant thrum of him through their bond.

“All right,” she agreed.

She couldn’t hear what Martha said, now in the hallway presumably on the phone with either Jack or her commanding officer. Ending the call, she looked to Martha, but she was already gathering her bag.

Martha shook her head—she had no more information.

“Something’s happened, we need to get to UNIT,” Rose said to the table. Looking at Donna she asked, “Do you still want to go see your grandfather?”

“Yes,” Donna said and stood. “But I’ll hitch a ride with you first. Make sure all’s well.”

Rose doubted it was. Not now that Mr. Smith beeped at Sarah Jane. Then again, it could be nothing and the Doctor simply wanted her near him—and the TARDIS—just in case. There were a lot of _Just In Case_ scenarios these days.

Nicking another roll, then one for the Doctor, Rose hugged everyone goodbye and waited for Private Ross.

********  
Donna held Martha up with a shoulder beneath her arm. His trench coat looked huge on her, but it was better than the flimsy gown she wore. Jack held Luke Rattigan’s gun on the kid who shook like the scared child he was.

Rose, his precious beautiful wife, his pregnant mate, his love, his universe glared at him. Arms crossed beneath her chest (pushing up her already ample breasts), brandy eyes sparking fire, she glared. And the Doctor didn’t know what to do.

He knew what he _had_ to do. Didn’t think he actually was able to physically do it. The converter slipped lower in his arms, lower, lower until it touched the ground and leaned against the teleport.

He didn’t pick it back up but he also didn’t walk away.

“So.” He said as if he wasn’t about to do something utterly stupid. Rose’s glare did not abate.

“Donna, thank you for everything. Martha, you too. Oh, so many times. Luke, do something clever with your life. Jack, take care of them. All of them.” He sucked in a deep breath. Pleaded. _“Please.”_

“If you think I’m letting you—” Martha began

“Forget it, Doc.” Jack glared at him. Probably knew him all too well. 

“You’re saying goodbye,” Donna gasped in surprise.

The Doctor looked only at Rose. She stood stiff where he left her in front of the teleport. She knew. She always knew. And she glared at him like he was the biggest idiot ever. Which he was.

“I have to, Rose.” His voice broke, cracked like his hearts. “Sontarans are never defeated. They’ll be getting ready for war. They don’t care if they die so long as they die in battle. And, well, you know, I’ve recalibrated this—” he gestured to the converter without looking away from her—“for Sontaran air, so…”

“No.” Rose said it very clear and very loud. She dropped her arms and tossed her head back. God, she was beautiful. “No.”

Her refusal to let him walk into certain death and do this monumentally stupid thing pulsed across their bond and _burned_ over his marriage tattoos. Churned in his gut.

“Just send that thing up on its own!” Martha snapped. “I don’t know. Put it on a delay or something.” 

“I know what the Sontarans are like,” Jack gritted out. “I know how they fight and how they die. Don’t be stupid, Doc,” Jack snapped. “Let me go.”

The Doctor didn’t look away from Rose. “I have to give them a choice,” he whispered. “You know I do.”

Hoped she knew how much he loved her. How desperately he wanted their life together. His hand wavered over the controls. Dropped to his side. He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t leave her and their baby. Couldn’t court death as he had before he met her.

The Doctor licked his lips and watched her. She strode to the teleport and climbed up and all he could do was silently watch.

“Rose,” he said, voice strangled.

“Forget it,” she snapped. “You want to give them a choice?” she demanded. “I understand.”

She took his hand and twined their fingers together and for the first time since reappearing in this forsaken academy the Doctor felt grounded. He automatically stepped back from the controls when she stood by him.

More distance between him and certain death.

“I need you safe,” he said, words choked. “That’s all I ever needed. You safe. The Sontarans won’t let this be. But I have to…I need you safe, Rose.”

_And alive and with me and dear God, Rose, I need you.  
_  
He suddenly found himself with his forehead pressed to hers and his wife in his arms and neither of them anywhere near the teleport controls.

“I’ll go with you.”

“What?” He jerked back. “No!”

“Marriage is equal opportunity,” she said. And though he heard the fear and heartbreak, he heard her determination, too. His wonderful Rose. His life.

“We do this together, Doctor,” she whispered, voice choked. “We do it all together or not at all. No leaving me— _us_ —” she took their joined hands and placed them on her belly— “behind, no running off. If you go, I’m coming with you.”

“So will I.” Jack said and stepped forward.

“And me.” Martha said looking ashen from her clone-ordeal and yet oh so determined. “Though you promised to have dinner with my mum, and she expects all of us there at six sharp.”

“We better be home for dinner, Doc,” Jack joked, his voice thin, his shoulders squared. “You know how Francine gets if we’re late.”

Oh. Right. Dinner with Francine. Dinner and tomorrow was Rose’s baby shower. The knowledge choked him and even with his repertory bypass he found it impossible to breathe. Another step back. Couldn’t do it, not with Rose here. _Right here._

“Who are you doing this for?” Rose asked softly. “You or them?”

The Doctor looked to Jack but couldn’t ask him to do this—to offer the Sontarans the choice he knew they wouldn’t accept. Knew, as they all did, that if any of them were to survive, it would only be Jack. If even he could survive an explosion.

Licking his lips, the Doctor squeezed Rose’s hand tighter. He was doing it for himself. To offer the Sontarans the choice he never had. To offer them the chance to do something different, to change their course.

“Hell. You’re all bloody mad.” Donna huffed and stepped forward. “Which makes me mad, too. Bloody hell, I’m going to regret this. But I’m with you.”

Friendship and love and awe choked him and the Doctor only stared. Time ticked down, he felt it as keenly as he did Rose’s love and their child’s nebulous (green light, a steady earthy green light that hovered around the peripheral of his mind) presence.

“Atmospheric converter, eh?” Luke Rattigan said from the teleporter controls. “Simple enough to figure out. Even a genius can do it.”

“What are you doing?” The Doctor demanded. He stepped forward, Rose’s hand still in his. And froze.

“Something clever,” Luke said and looked oh so brave and flat-out terrified. “I’ll give them a choice,” he promised and tore his gaze from them to the controls then back. “A chance to leave, yeah? A chance to go away.” His voice wavered but he gazed, hot and determined, at the Doctor.

“Thank you, Doctor. For giving me one.”

The Doctor reached out but knew it was too late. Luke vanished. And he was still there. With his Rose and his family.

“I couldn’t do it,” he said to the specter of Luke. “I needed to. Needed to go up there and talk to them. Needed to give them the chance to do the right thing.”

The explosion rocked through him, the lives lost, Luke’s life. But Earth was saved as was the universe from further Sontaran encroachment in clone colonization. They might never admit this even happened, but high command wouldn’t try to colonize an already inhabited planet again.

Rose was safe. His family was safe.

“Not everyone takes that chance,” Rose said softly, her words a balm to his bruised soul. “Luke did.”

“Luke was scared of repercussions,” Jack said.

“Yes, but he did the right thing.” Rose looked up at him, eyes soft with love and affection. “In the end, Luke did the right thing for himself.”

“I think he did give them the chance,” Martha offered. “I think he kept that promise.”

They stood on the teleporter for long, long minutes. Just the five of them, his closest friends. His family.

“You really would’ve teleported up?” he asked, then cleared his throat. The Doctor looked from Rose to Jack, Martha, Donna, back to Rose. He shook his head a small smile playing around his lips. “You’re all mad.”

Jack snorted and stepped back. Donna rolled her eyes and huffed. Martha just shook her head. Rose leaned her head on his arm, fingers still tightly entwined with his.

Contentment.  
It enveloped him and hummed along his nerves, settled around his heart. He really did have the best companions. The best family in the universe.

“You’re going to give me heart failure,” Rose mumbled. “Doing stupid stunts like this. I thought we agreed—no getting killed.”

“I know,” he murmured back, lips brushing her forehead. “I’m sorry. Old habits,” he said in excuse.

“Together.” Rose squeezed his hand tighter, voice fierce. “Where you go I go, so you better think twice about these old habits.”

“I promise, Rose.”

She released a breath and nodded. He felt her fear and anger but more importantly—most importantly—her understanding. What had he ever done to deserve a woman like her? How had he even found her?

The Doctor suspected the TARDIS had more to do with that than luck.

The academy was empty, deserted now the students ran off to be with their families. And that was appropriate. Today was about families. 

“If we weren’t here,” Donna said and stopped, took a breath. “If you were alone,” she tried again and caught his gaze. “Would you have gone up?”

His hand squeezed around Rose’s and he looked down at her. She knew. Even without the bond, she knew. She knew him better than anyone, better than himself. 

His life was divided into sections. Who was he kidding? Forget dividing his life into sections. Clearly he always did the stupid thing, took the reckless path.

But if Rose wasn’t here with him? If he’d lost her as he once thought he had?

“Yes,” he said. Short and clear and end of discussion.

Except it wasn’t. Not with this lot. Never with them.

“You’d have left Rose?” Donna demanded, voice rising. “Your pregnant wife?”

The Doctor looked at Donna. He felt every one of his years and choices and sacrifices. “She’d have been safe. She’d have been alive. These are the choices I make, Donna. Every single day. Because if I don’t, no one will.”

“You don’t make them alone,” Rose said, hard and unyielding and yet so soft her words were a brush along his skin. “There’s me.” She took their joined hands and again pressed them to her stomach. “There’s us.”

“And me,” Martha reminded him. Again. “Don’t think you’re getting away with crap behavior like that. Not on my watch.”

He choked out a laugh. Martha had changed, too. And he loved that about her, loved seeing the differences. Rose hummed beside him and rested her head on his arm once more. 

“And me,” Jack said and tossed away the gun Luke tried to train on them. He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Don’t do that again, Doctor. Let me.”

“Jack…”

_“Let. Me.”_

The Doctor reluctantly nodded. Jack might come back, hell he might survive that explosion. But the Doctor didn’t _know_ that. Couldn’t be certain. And couldn’t make Jack take the chance he needed to take instead.

“Bloody mad,” Donna muttered. “Should be locked up in Bedlam.”

“I was there once,” Martha said and turned from the teleporter platform. “Wouldn’t recommend it. Course,” she added as Jack and Donna joined her. “I was with the Doctor. So…appropriate, I suppose.”

Donna snorted. “When was this?”

“When we saw Shakespeare,” she said and sighed tiredly. Jack easily swept her into his arms and Martha didn’t protest. “Saw Queen Elizabeth, too, but she wanted the Doctor’s head.” Martha looked over Jack’s shoulder. “Again—appropriate. Ever figure out why, Doctor?”

“No.” He shook his head and tugged Rose with him. “No, not yet. I’ll let you know when I do, though.”

“You better,” she warned and leaned her head on Jack’s shoulder. “I need a nap. Being clone feed is exhausting.” She wrinkled her nose. “And a shower. I definitely need a shower.”

“Does this mean I’m doing the paperwork?” Jack asked as he carried her through the academy.

Donna laughed and the three of them headed to a waiting car. At least the Doctor hoped a car waited for them. It was a damn long walk back to ATMOS headquarters where UNIT set up.

“I couldn’t, you know.” The Doctor stopped and pulled Rose into his arms. Felt her body against his and the mound of their child and let the tension ease away. “I couldn’t do it. I knew I had to and I knew it needed to be done, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t leave you. If you weren’t here…”

“You’d have rushed headlong into another dangerous situation.” She said it lightly but there was a heavy element of truth and fear to her words.

“Yes.” No need to sugarcoat it between them. “If only Martha and Donna were there, or Jack, I would’ve.”

If she was still trapped in the other universe—he definitely would’ve and not cared. Not cared if he died or not.

“I know.” Rose leaned back and kissed him. A soft press of lips, a touchstone. “I know. But I won’t let you go into anything dangerous. Not alone. I meant it then and I meant it every time I said it since. _There’s me._ You’re not alone.”

“I love you, Rose.”

She grinned against his lips. “I know.”

The Doctor laughed and retook her hand. They joined their friends outside, in the bright sunlight in the cool spring day, the five of them. He could grow used to this. Yes. Oh so easily.

Or maybe he had.

Maybe now it was only a matter of accepting it.

“I’d love to, but I’m going to see Gramps,” Donna was saying.

“He’s welcomed, too,” Martha insisted. “Your mum also.”

Donna stiffened. “No.” She shook her head. “No. I don’t think she’s ready for it. To, you know—” she gestured helplessly—“know all that’s really out there.”

Jack laughed and threw an arm around her. “She’s not?” He looked at her. “Or you’re not?”

Donna sighed and grumbled. “I’m not. But,” she said and straightened, happier. “Next time. I’ll invite Gramps and he’ll love it.”

“We’d love to meet him,” Rose said and broke from the Doctor’s side. She took Donna’s hand and held it between her own. “Ring when you’re ready to leave and we’ll meet you at the TARDIS. Maybe go see Agatha Christie?”

“Brilliant!” Donna smiled.

“Come on, Jack,” Martha said and climbed into the SUV. “You start the paperwork while I shower.”

The Doctor missed what Jack said—he didn’t really need to hear it anyway. He knew it was of the inviting-himself-into-her-shower variety. But it was nice to see them like that. Together. So very together; doing paperwork and worrying about each other and loving each other.

“Well,” he said as Donna climbed into another SUV and instructed the driver to her own house. “Aren’t we all in healthy domestic relationships.”

Rose snorted. “Domestic, maybe. Healthy? I’m not sure about that.” She pulled him down to her, fingers curling along the nape of his neck. “But we’re working on it.”

“I love you,” he whispered against her mouth. “I can never leave you.”

“I love you more than anything,” she promised and it cemented around them like the vow, the promise, it was.

“Come on, husband,” she said and tugged his hand, starting for the final SUV. The Doctor assumed Jack called for them, but didn’t care. So long as they left the Rattigan Academy long behind them.

“Buy me food. I didn’t get to finish lunch with Sarah Jane.” Rose sighed as she sat in the back seat. “And we should probably call Sarah Jane, Tish, and Shonara. Let them know we’re fine.”

The Doctor pulled her into his arms and let her get comfortable before telling their driver where to drive. “I’ll call,” he whispered. “You rest.”

As the SUV pulled from the academy, he pressed his lips to the top of Rose’s head. Felt her relax against him in sleep. _“Forever, my hearts. I’ll love you forever,”_ he said in Gallifreyan.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Manly talk

Barefoot and dressed only in his trousers and oxford, the Doctor sat on the bench at the foot of their bed. Rose already fell asleep after the events of the day— Sontarans and poisonous gas and that speculator argument in the middle of gaseous London about keeping safe with him in UNIT headquarters instead of the TARDIS.

He scrubbed his hands over his face only to drop his head back into his hands. Together, she said. Repeatedly. Together they faced (fill in the blank). Together they’d take this life of theirs and see it through to the end.

_Together._

Even now, hours later, he could barely breathe and his hearts refused to quiet and the icy ball in his stomach refused to dissipate.

When it was the two of them, the Doctor didn’t mind running into danger with Rose’s hand in his as they laughed and kissed and saw the universe. Well….maybe ‘didn’t mind’ was too strong.

Knew Rose was brilliant and found clues on her own and capable of taking care of herself. Even if, as she so astutely pointed out, he liked swooping in and rescuing her. Knew he’d do anything to keep her safe. Now that she was pregnant with their first child…

Everything changed.

If she hadn’t been pregnant, he would’ve slipped his hand into hers and taken on the entire Sontarans fleet. Or maybe not…maybe he’d have sent her off, kept her safe. As it was, if she’d been in the TARDIS with Donna, it would’ve eased him. _Not_ to have her running about a Sontarans ship.

To know she was on the TARDIS and She’d protect Rose at all costs.

The Doctor stood and exited their room before he realized he moved. He needed…to move or run or hide or…he didn’t know.

Usually he tinkered while Rose slept. Tweaked the TARDIS scans, contacted Sarah’s Mr. Smith or Harriet about her subwave network or bothered Alistair for the name of a competent astronomer at UNIT to help search for missing stars and gaps in the universe or he narrowed the parameters to search for a way to contact the other universe.

Lately, he catalogued _stuff_ that found its way onto his TARDIS and into his storage rooms.

 _Stuff_ from Gallifrey.

Susan’s stuff and Romana’s stuff and various stuff he hadn’t used or worn in lifetimes. Even Lucy’s stuff—Adric’s, Nyssa…Tegan and even Sarah’s. Should probably get their stuff back them at least. If Tegan even wanted to speak with him.

“Doctor.”

He turned to see Jack just entering the kitchens. Neither of them slept all that much. The Doctor because of his Time Lord Biology and Jack because of the sheer amount of (Bad Wolf/Time Vortex) energy keeping him alive. The Doctor didn’t know if he needed Jack right then, needed to talk, but was suddenly grateful for the other man’s presence.

“Can’t sleep?” Jack asked anyway as they stood in the kitchen, curtains billowing in a (nonexistent) hot wind, the wide window overlooking Gallifrey.

“Fatherhood changes a man,” he said before he thought the words out or knew he wanted to say them or, more importantly, that he needed to say them.

“Ah.” Jack nodded and yanked out a chair.

Not Rose’s, not the chair the TARDIS purposefully provided for Rose’s comfort during her pregnancy, but one of the others that now constantly graced his… _their_ …table. Jack pointed and sat opposite the chair, patiently waiting, arms crossed over his chest, eyes glittering in the soft evening light. 

“This is about going up on the Sontarans ship.” Jack nodded and let out a long, deep sigh. “I was going to talk with you about that, but I promised Martha I wouldn’t yell at you for being an ass.”

The Doctor let out a surprised snort of laughter. “Rose already has.”

Maybe she hadn’t yelled at him, but their discussion involved her calling him an idiot. Several times. And her fear. God, her fear _for him_. Even in sleep, it pulsed through his hearts. Cold and damming and a constant mantra— _you can’t save her. You can’t save them. You can’t win. **Doctor.** _

Head once more in his hands, the Doctor stared blindly down at the table.

“I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t…with Rose,” he said slowly, “I, well, I—” promised never to leave her. “When she was gone, when I thought she was still in that other world, we met the Daleks in New York,” the Doctor said.

Over the weeks and months since Rose’s return, that day had taken an entirely different hue in his mind. No longer dark and metallic and deadly.

Bright and warm and loving and Rose. Well, the end of that day at least.

“When you found us, too,” the Doctor said unnecessarily. “Martha and I’d met the Daleks’ who were responsible for the destruction at Torchwood. I was so _angry_.”

The word tasted like a lie, not at all like the finality and hatred he continued to feel even now, and it lay heavily between them. 

“Angry,” he repeated, “and I hated the Daleks even more—they never die. They take _everything_ away from me and no matter what I do or what Rose did or _any of it_ , they never die! Even with Cybermen and Torchwood and they just _didn’t die!_ ”

He stopped, took a breath. Looked up at Jack who stared silently at him—no judgment, no condemnation, nothing but understanding. He knew the Daleks and Cybermen. He knew what they were capable of and would do and had done. Not just myths and rumors—the destruction of the Game Station.

Jack’s own death.

“And I stood on the back of the chairs in that theater and I offered myself to them.”

“They’d have killed you and then everyone else in the theater. In New York,” Jack quietly reminded him.

“But they’d have killed _me_ ,” he whispered. “Martha tried to stop me, tried to talk sense into me.” The Doctor cut himself off.

Remembered Martha’s frantic words as he challenged the Daleks. Her pleas to stop. As she found him atop the Empire State Building, unconscious in the rain. As she tried to comfort him on their walk back to the TARDIS.

“All I wanted,” he whispered, “was the pain to end. It was the Time War and Gallifrey and losing Rose and it sliced through me like a thousand, thousand knives.”

The Doctor looked back down at the wooden table and closed his eyes. Pressed the heels of his palms hard to them but the images didn’t abate. He still saw it—fire and blood and panic. Bloodshed. The Army of Meanwhiles and Neverweres and the Could’ve Been King and the Hoard of Travesties.

Their fingers stretching, stretching ever farther outwards, changing and manipulating and distorting history over and again until the entire Time War resembled nothing so much as everything.

Everything everywhere. Everything all at once.

“If Rose hadn’t been there today,” Jack stated slowly, “you’d have gone up. Even with the rest of us there, you’d have still gone up.”

“Yes,” the Doctor breathed the word.

“And died.”

He nodded. “Yes.” The word barely a whisper between them.

He saw it so clearly—Donna and Martha there, yelling at him, trying to stop him but he went up anyway. Still so broken by Rose’s disappearance. Uncaring about himself. Even now that Time Ripple churned nauseatingly through him.

The Doctor wondered if Martha felt it. She said she had dreams-memories-premonitions about things that happened only not as she lived them. Wondered if Donna experienced anything like that.

“Martha was right. I should kick your ass.” Jack abruptly pushed back from the table and stalked angrily to the fridge. He grabbed a something from the transdimensional fridge and stalked back. The 44th century beer bottle clicked hard on the table but Jack ignored it.

“How am I supposed to keep her safe, Jack? How am I supposed to keep _them both_ safe?”

“You just do.” He stopped, released a slow breath. When he spoke again it was gentler. “There’s no magic plan, no snapping your fingers. You live your life and learn and explore and take precautions,” Jack admitted, sounding as wise as his years. “But you don’t stop living.”

The Doctor nodded, words choking him but nothing sounded right or sane or anything more than a jumble of hope and fear. They knotted on his tongue and clogged his throat, harsh and terrifying and so very present.

“When I bounced back to 1869 Cardiff,” Jack said into the silence, “all I wanted was to find you and Rose again.” He let out a slow breath. “Family…well I hadn’t had a family since…well, since the bombing raids on the Peninsula. It took me a long time to come to terms with being alone again.”

“Sometimes,” the Doctor whispered, “even with companions you’re still alone.”

“But you’re not now,” Jack insisted. “And isn’t that the point?”

“If I don’t give the Sontarans a chance, I’m no better than they.” He stopped, swallowed hard, managed to spit out the truth. “I knew they wouldn’t take it. I knew they’d rather die than surrender or retreat. And I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t leave Rose.”

(And still he saw it, as clearly as if the Could’ve Been King and his army showed him. _Taunted him._

The Doctor saw the Time Ripple of what could’ve been or might’ve been. Or had been. He saw it all. He saw Martha there, Donna, but no Jack. Or Jack but not Martha or Donna. Sometimes just Donna.

No Rose, pregnant or not—she wasn’t in his Time Ripple vision-memories-Maybe Time Lines. So he went up. Each time he transported to the Sontaran ship and detonated the converter and hadn’t cared he died as well.

Because he lost Rose and he didn’t know how to live without her.) 

The Doctor dragged his gaze from the tabletop to his friend. Jack no longer grated along his time sense and he wondered why. Why that sandpaper was so rough on the Game Station but barely a whisper of pain in New York and ever since.

“That’s family for you, Doc,” Jack said lightly. The words still carried weight for all that. “So does this mean you won’t be doing any more stupid, dangerous stunts like that?”

Jack lifted the beer to his lips, put it down without drinking. The Doctor watched the movements but didn’t really see them. All he saw was Rose’s face in that academy. And afterward when she’d crossed her arms in the TARDIS console as he set the coordinates to Francine’s and demanded an explanation.

Again in the privacy of their room.

Her fear and her understanding and her pain. For him. Her tears and his frantic scramble to stem them, to stop her tears and reassure her and mean it. Oh, he meant it with every beat of his hearts and every ounce of love he had for her.

“It means change. What kind of father will I be, always racing off into the unknown and trying to get myself killed? I want to be there for my daughters.”

He stopped, a faint grin tugging his mouth. “All my children. I want to see them grow up and travel and explore and fall in love themselves.”

They sat in silence for several long minutes. Jack drained his beer in quick swallows but said nothing to the Doctor’s epiphany. Feeling lighter or at least able to breathe easier and as if that ice ball finally melted, the Doctor nodded.

“Thanks, Jack,” he whispered.

Jack lifted his empty beer bottle in salute. “Any time, Doctor.”

Standing, he nodded to Jack and headed out of the kitchen. Jack hadn’t moved and at the doorway, the Doctor stopped, looked back.

“What are you doing up?” he asked his friend.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Jack said but didn’t turn.

“Are you and Martha fighting?”

“No.” But Jack sighed and leaned forward. Then he straightened and stood. “Can I have children?”

The Doctor opened his mouth to say yes. Then no. Then he shut his mouth because, “I don’t know, Jack. We can find out. I can run tests.” He paused. “If you want me to.”

Clearing his throat he stepped back into the kitchen. “Do you and Martha want children?”

“I don’t know,” Jack whispered. “I do…I really do…” he trailed off. “But I’ll outlive them. All of them. And all their children. And their children’s children’s children.”

The pain of that realization hit the Doctor hard. He didn’t like reminders of Rose’s mortality. He was fine living with his own, all things died eventually. But not Rose. Never her.

“Didn’t you just remind me that we’re never alone?” The Doctor asked and wondered where those words, the sentiment behind them, came from.

The truth in them. The love and affection.

Jack breathed out a laugh. “I don’t want Martha to know.”

“We’ll do it when everyone else is sleeping,” the Doctor promised.

“Thanks,” Jack said and the word caught in his throat.

“Thank you, Jack,” the Doctor returned. Repeated.

With a final nod, he left the kitchen. He needed to hold Rose. To breathe in her scent and feel her body against his. When he entered their bedroom, Rose instantly turned toward him.

“Missed you,” she mumbled and struggled up to her elbows.

The mound of pillows she used to sleep on shifted with her movements. Winston, who had taken to guarding Rose whenever the Doctor was not immediately next to her, stretched, cast him a baleful look, and leaped off the bed. He stalked away, but the Doctor ignored the cat.

Rose blinked in the dim light but the Doctor knew she focused on him. “What happened?”

“I talked to Jack,” he admitted and stripped off his trousers and shirt. He let them drop where he stood and, clad only in his pants, climbed into bed with her. Pulled her close.

“Ah.” Rose snuggled into him, adjusting around the mound of her pregnancy. “Feel better?”

“I’m never going to leave you,” he promised and kissed the top of her head.

The Doctor caught her hand and lifted it to his mouth, voicing his vow into her skin. “I’m not going to race off and do something stupid or dangerous. I won’t leave you or our child—children—because of that.”

Rose shifted back just enough to see him. “Thank you.” She leaned up, awkward, and sighed against his lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too, my hearts.”

 _“Always, my Doctor,”_ she said in Gallifreyan.

 ********  
“Was Rose surprised?” Leo asked him as he, Jack, and the Doctor sat on the bar stools around the kitchen.

The Doctor wasn’t entirely certain how everyone fit into the rooms. He didn’t _think_ Francine had transdimensional knowledge, but seriously would not put one damn thing past that woman. She made it quite clear she’d do anything for Rose (not so much him, mind) and the baby.

Talk about being welcomed into the family.

A wave of longing slammed into him. Rose looked up as if she sensed his loss and he smiled. Sent a wave of love and assurance across their bond. He missed Jackie. And Mickey.

His family.

That Christmas, and all the happiness and companionship between the four of them—the turkey and presents and Christmas crackers and the laughter and photos. And Harriet Jones. Who had graciously forgiven him for singlehandedly ruining her political career (and Britain’s Golden Age) and agreed to help him search for holes between universes with her subwave network.

( _“Earth first,” she told him when he talked to her right after this latest Christmas. “I only ever wanted to keep the human race safe from those who might exploit or enslave us. I’m not against friendly aliens, Doctor, nor against exploration. And I know it’s inevitable we’ll meet unfriendly aliens. But I shall do everything in my power to protect Earth and her people.”_

He didn’t blame her. Didn’t like her methods, but then thought maybe Torchwood had corrupted even Harriet Jones as they corrupted so much. They hunted Jack and who knew what might’ve happened to him throughout the century if he hadn’t found the TARDIS in New York.

The Doctor didn’t know, but with Torchwood, anything was possible. He couldn’t see straight when it came to the now defunct organization.)

Okay, so her subwave network wasn’t designed to look for gaping holes between universes, but a little tinkering never hurt anything.

The Doctor did wonder what happened to the consecutive terms as PM. And, for that matter, who the Prime Minister was now. Maybe Harriet planned a political come back.

Maybe he’d stay out of British politics.

“Oh yes,” the Doctor told Leo now.

Rose laughed over the baby outfits Jo insisted several of the Brazilian tribes she studied wore. _Outfit_ might be generous, but the little loincloths made Rose smile and it was so damn good to see her happy, it made the Doctor smile, too.

“She called me on the excuse I used to keep us here,” he added. “But Donna spun some tale about seeing her Gramps and being back and…” the Doctor shook his head and rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. “Honestly even I lost the thread of the conversation.”

Jack snorted out a laugh and accepted the plate of food Leo passed him. “I think she knew something was going on, but she never guessed this.”

They ate in silence for several minutes while their family handed Rose more presents and they laughed and ate and generally enjoyed each other’s company. It was a sight the Doctor never thought he’d see and for a brief moment, desperately missed Susan.

The pain sliced through him but he expertly pushed it down. Not quick enough—Rose looked up again, concern etched on her features, coming clear over their bond. He offered a smile, then a genuine one, and caressed their link.

( _“We can name our daughter Susan,”_ Rose offered and the tentativeness of her suggestion made his hearts ache.

He never wanted her to fear his reaction even over his granddaughter. Especially over his granddaughter.

 _“Call each one Rose Susan?”_ he asked, tried for jest. Fell short.

_“I’m serious, Doctor.”_

_“I know.”_ He swallowed hard against the lump of loss that choked him. “Maybe. Yes.” _Gathered her close and kissed her._ “Thank you, Rose.” )

“Congratulations, dad,” Clive said and took the fourth stood beside Leo.

He piled his plate high with food Francine and Doris catered and took a minute to savor the little meatballs. The Doctor didn’t blame him, they really were tasty. He’d had close to an entire tray already.

“I hear you’re having a daughter?” Clive asked.

By now the Doctor was pretty sure this thing Rose called family knew the gender of their child. All…wow. How had that happened? It wasn’t only he and Rose and their (unborn) children. Or even Martha and Jack. Companions and former companions and their families and their children.

He expected panic. This large a family—more people to die and leave him.  
All he felt was peace. Warmth. Love.

“Have you started baby proofing the TARDIS?” Leo asked into the relative silence, breaking into the Doctor’s thoughts.

The Doctor shook himself out of his realizations and looked askance at Leo. He snagged another crab cake and ate it in silence while he gathered his thoughts. Delicious. He wondered who the caterer was.

“Baby proofing?”

Leo nodded. “No sharp edges or open outlets, no small objects the baby can swallow.”

The Doctor felt himself go pale. This was a problem. Yes, he could see it—how had he never thought of it before? There were all sorts of little things his baby girl could pick up, little things she could swallow. Or edges. So many sharp edges she could hurt herself on!

“Relax, Doc,” Jack said and clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m sure the TARDIS already thought of it.”

“Right,” he said and exhaled sharply. “Yes. Right.”

“It’s a big step,” Clive said quietly. “Fatherhood changes you.”

The Doctor had absolutely no plan to say, “I know.” Then he cleared his throat and now the panic did set in.

He never told anyone about his family. Other than Rose, no one knew about Susan and his family. Not since… Barbara and Ian...anyway.

“But I can’t wait,” he said with far more enthusiasm than the words warranted. But it felt right. “I…”

And again the words come without his explicit permission.

“I don’t deserve this, I never did. But especially now. I don’t deserve Rose or our child. Children. This is…Rose is…”

“Everything.” Leo finishes for him but the other man wasn’t looking at the Doctor. He looked at Shonara and Keisha.

“Everything,” the Doctor echoed and watched Rose throw her head back in laughter, long blonde hair falling like a waterfall down her back. The warmth and shining brightness coiling along their bond and around his hearts.

Clive cleared his throat and added softly, “There’s nothing like it.” But he watched his plate—carefully avoided looking up.

“Yeah,” Jack said and the word caught in his throat. “Yeah,” he repeated even softer.

Jack raised his beer and smiled. A little brittle around the edges, a little sharper than normal. “To family.”

They raised their drinks and echoed the sentiment. And that dark cold place in his soul, black and viscus, his burden to carry after the Time War. Because of the Time War. It eased. Lightened. Brightened.

He thought only Rose had that particular power. He was wrong.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life happens. NSFW (Very much so in the 2nd scene)

“Leo!” Shonara said as she followed him out of the Jones’s house. “Be careful with that.”

“I got it, Shon!” he called back but slowed his pace as he and Clive walked the large box of baby furniture to the TARDIS.

Behind him, Jack grunted as he juggled another box and the three of them maneuvered their respective burdens through the TARDIS’s double doors. Rose watched, fascinated. Of all the expansions the TARDIS was capable of, expanding the main entrance didn’t seem to be one of them.

“When they said baby shower,” Jack grumbled just loud enough for Rose to hear, “I thought we’d go to the pub.”

Rose snorted at that and snuggled deeper into the Doctor’s arms.

She and the Doctor sat on the front porch by the flowers. She leaned against him, head on his shoulder, their joined hands over her belly. The baby rolled within her, all punches and kicks. Their daughter’s movements fascinated the Doctor—they mostly kept Rose awake.

But he spent hours caressing her bare belly and talking to the baby. Promises of wondrous sights to see and explore. The adventures they’d have as a family. And everything he wanted to teach her: how to pilot the TARDIS—he and Mama TARDIS already grew one in a specialized room. Gallifreyan, Old High and Circular and telepathy. How to create her own sonic.

How to run.

Rose yawed and smiled happily. Eyes closed, she didn’t move from the Doctor’s embrace, merely snuggled further into his arms. His hands stroked her belly, long sensuous movements that sent shivers through her.

She resituated herself for her belly, now laid gently against his thigh and sighed again, utterly content.

It’d been only a day since Sontarans and teleports and sacrifices.

And still, even after today and the party, Rose didn’t know how she hadn’t realized everyone—from Francine to Donna to Jack and the Doctor—conspired to keep them planet-bound with the filmiest excuses she ever heard.

Rose blamed it on pregnancy tiredness. Or just plain tiredness. The last couple days had been _rough_.

“Why aren’t you helping?” she murmured against his neck.

“I’m perfectly content right here.” His lips brush the top of her head. “Are you happy?”

“Yes,” she sighed and squeezed his hand. “Very.”

“And surprised?” he asked, laughter light in his tone. His fingers brushed along her belly and he hummed slightly. “Were you surprised over the baby shower?”

“Oh yes.” She laughed and sighed in contentment again. She might never move from this double porch swing. “I can’t believe you kept it a secret!” She pulled back slightly, just enough to see him. “Was it your idea?”

He let out a disbelieving breath but his eyes were soft in the dim porch light. “No. Donna’s. Anything you or the baby needs the TARDIS can provide.” He sniffed a little in annoyance. “And I’m not sure She wasn’t a little insulted when Donna suggested it.”

“Well it was lovely.” She leaned up to kiss the side of his neck, ran her fingers through his wild hair. “Thank you.”

“Hmm,” he hummed. He lifted their joined hands and kissed her inner wrist. “What were you and Shonara talking about earlier?”

“Our future,” she said before she had the chance to temper her words. Cursing, she hastily amended, “She hasn’t found a steady job and I…”

Rose trailed off. She hadn’t brought up her fears to the Doctor, didn’t want him to think her…silly. Ridiculous. Or worse—unhappy. But those fears didn’t feel silly or ridiculous or out of proportion—they yawned before her, a great chasm of uncertainty.

But she wasn’t unhappy. Never.

“You?” he prodded, but she heard the thread in his voice.

The concern. The borderline fear.

“I don’t want to simply be…I don’t want to only be a mother,” she confided. “I mean I want to be one,” she said quickly and looked up, met the Doctor’s gaze.

He looked stricken. Rose moved and framed his face with her hands. Made sure he looked directly at her. She didn’t want to say this wrong, to give him any impression but the honest truth.

With a slow, deep breath, she focused on their bond and slid metal fingers over his blue-silver light. She poured every ounce of love and affection and hope and future and all of it into that touch.

The Doctor sucked in a sharp breath and Rose felt his answering caress in return.

“I do, I want our children. Doctor,” she breathed. “I want a family with you so very much. I don’t think you realize how much. But I don’t want to only be…And women do it all the time, stay at home mums. And that’s great. For them. If that’s what they want. Not for me. I…that isn’t what…I don’t want to lose…” she let out an annoyed breath. 

“So much for giving an honest, truthful impression.” It turned into one of the Doctor’s babbles. “Am I making any sense?”

Slowly he nodded, despite her jumbled words, and his face relaxed. Licked his lips and shifted, until she sat more comfortably on the swing, her belly between them. His long, cool fingers cupped her face. Brushed over her cheeks, along her jaw.

“Yes, Rose. Perfect sense.” The Doctor paused, took a deep breath. “You don’t want to be defined by one thing.”

“Exactly!” she said. “You put that way better than I could’ve.” She frowned. “When you say it, it doesn’t sound as horrible as when I think it.”

She was already terrified she’d be a bad mum. Thoughts of being an even worse mum because she wanted _more_ made her stomach churn with guilty nausea and her chest burn.

He only chuckled. Ran his hand along her arm, a light and soothing touch. “Remember, I stole the TARDIS and ran away from Gallifrey because I didn’t want to be defined by a single thing—being a Time Lord. I ran because I didn’t want to play by their rules.”

“Yeah,” she whispered. “But you decided to take a job saving the universe.”

He snorted a laugh. “I just want a simple life with you, Rose. I want our family and the TARDIS and even Winston.”

Rose chuckled, a soft sound, and shook her head, leaned against his chest. “No white picket fence and curtains?”

He shuddered. “God, no! But the quiet life: you, me, our family.” He pulled her tighter to him. “Our friends, extended family.”

“I don’t want to stay on Earth,” she insisted. “I want to travel. Martha and I talked about that. About traveling with a family and making it all work.”

“Oh?” His hand continued to gently run down her arm. Up to caress her marriage tattoos. Back down her arm to brush her sensitive inner wrist.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “When we all lived together in 1969.”

As opposed to 1936. Rose frowned. They really didn’t have a good track record when it came to _not_ being planet bound.

“Street corner, two in the morning, getting a taxi home,” the Doctor whispered. “I want a life like that.”

Rose pulled back, frowning. His fingers stopped and curled around hers. The way he said it sparked something, not a memory per se. A feeling he said a variation of those words to her before, when he was her blue-eyed Doctor.

“What?” She licked her lips and met his gaze. He looked far away and took long, long minutes to focus on her.

“When I left Gallifrey, I wanted to explore. See the universe, see _anything_ more than Gallifrey.” He sighed, his lips pulling into a slight grin. “The saving the universe part? That was secondary. Right place, right time stuff. I never really set out to do that. Not in the beginning.”

“But you’re so good at it.” She teased him and shifted up a bit to better see him. To better touch him, that grounding touch they both needed. Craved.

He chuckled and looked at her, in the moment with her again. “It’s a talent.”

Rose grinned, peeked her tongue out of the corner of her mouth. His gaze zeroed in on her deliberate movement and she settled back against his chest. His hand resumed its movements, slow and deliberate and all the more arousing for that.

“I don’t want to stop traveling and I don’t want curtains and carpeting and walls that don’t shift and expand. I want to show our children the universe and teach them…” she trailed off and grinned. “Everything.”

Rose paused again and lifted his hand, kissed his palm. “I want to drop them off with Uncle Jack and Aunt Martha and go back to that waterfall on Cheem and make love to you until generations of future hikers wonder at the impressions carved into the ground.”

He laughed and she felt his arousal, his happiness, his _contentment_ tingle through her. “You’ll never be only one thing, Rose Tyler. You’ll always be more.”

“I’m being silly,” she conceded. “I know I am. But I don’t want to lose myself.” She licked her lips and asked in no more than the faintest of whispers. “What if I’m no good at being a mum?”

“Rose,” he said sharply and turned them again, sending the swing tilting. “What brought this on? What makes you think you’ll be anything other than brilliant at being a mum? Just like you’re brilliant at everything else.”

She swallowed her fears, her worries, and looked at her husband. His fingers tightened around hers and his conviction in her, his belief in her shone clear through. “It just seems so…big,” she admitted.

“Oh,” he said and nodded. “Well, yes.” The Doctor shifted again and gathered her tight to him. “But I’m not leaving you,” he insisted. “Not to give the Sontarans a chance to do something right or because I’m afraid. I promised you I’d stop running.”

His hand settled on their baby, voice soft and full of promise. “I promised you forever. I meant it, Rose. I’ll love you for all my remaining lives. Nothing will ever change that.”

“I love you, too, Doctor. My Doctor. Always.”

Jack, Clive, and Leo exited the TARDIS, laughing, and headed back into the house for a second trip. Inside Rose heard the rest of the party, including Doris (who skipped lunch with them yesterday to help Francine set up for today), Jo Grant, Keisha (who was so excited about being a big sister), Liz Shaw, and Ace (who did not like the name Dorothy, thank you very much), and Harriet Jones, former Prime Minister.

Eclectic? Certainly.  
Loving? Definitely.  
Family? Yes.

“So,” the Doctor asked softly. “What were you and Shonara talking about?”

She drew a deep breath though she didn’t know why she was nervous. “Possibly opening a salon-spa like place for UNIT.”

Rose held her breath and waited for his reaction. Beneath her ear, his hearts beat steadily and their bond continued to flow warm and silvery-blue between them.

“Why for UNIT?” he asked, pure curiosity in his voice, nothing more.

“A place that’s private and also secure. They can talk freely without worrying anyone is eavesdropping or bugging the place. We’d have constant scans for alien tech—or really any kind of bugs and stuff. Plus we were thinking of hiring some of the aliens that live in and around London. Show Earth isn’t all wars and famine.”

“Hmm,” he hummed again then chuckled. “Brilliant idea as always, Rose.”

“We’d collaborate,” she said, warming to the topic. The idea. Her idea. “Really, it’s using my money.” She shrugged. “Well, our money. But Shonara would run it. Because—” she pulled back again and grinned up at him. “She’ll be on Earth and I’ll be travelling round exploring the universe and saving worlds with my family.”

He chuckled and cupped her cheek, his other hand tangling in the hair at the nape of her neck. His mouth was cool against hers, soft, as he lazily kissed her. Drew out the kiss, tongue running along her lips, slow and easy.

“Doctor,” she sighed.

“Rose Tyler. You are brilliant,” he whispered against her lips.

Then he pulled back and resumed their previous position, her head on his shoulder, his hand on her belly, the other once more running lethargically down her arm. He set the swing swaying and she sighed in contentment.

“When does this venture happen?” he asked, chin against the top of her head.

“Shonara is going to look into property. We’re hoping if this one takes off, we can set up more near other UNIT locations—New York, Geneva, Germany, wherever.” She yawned and snuggled deeper into his coat. “She also wants to use people who are out of work, give them jobs.”

“She understands what it’s like,” he agreed. “Good for her. Not just UNIT of course,” he said as she closed her eyes. “But the spouses of UNIT, family. Daycare,” he continued, clearly warming to the topic.

Rose let his words wash over her as the cool evening air blew around them. The Doctor tightened his arms around her, adjusted his coat to better cover her and she sighed. His hand caressed her belly, his lips brushed the top of her head, and he talked.

 ********  
Later, after saying goodbye and thanking everyone for the baby gifts and basically being an awesome family, Rose sat on their bed. She had lists to make and ideas to put down and timelines to write out.

Instead she tugged her much longer hair, thanks to her pregnancy and all the vitamin shots, from behind her back and plumped the massive number of pillows against the headboard and waited for the Doctor. Hair over her shoulder? Or floating around the pillows? Pillows, she decided. Less chance it tangled.

She debated standing, but her ankles decided now was a fine time to swell. She didn’t want to give them even more reason to do so. But her plan was seduction and not even swollen ankles stood in her way.

Winston chose that moment to jump onto the bed. Rose rubbed a hand down his back, nails scratching behind his ear.

“Did you miss us?” she asked.

The cat bumped his head against her naked belly, a soft purr rippling along her stomach. The baby jabbed a hand or elbow or other appendage out as if to pet the cat. Rose sighed and closed her eyes, fingers stroking Winston’s soft fur.

“Rose have you—” the Doctor trailed off.

Rose slowly raised an eyebrow. “Have I what, Doctor?” she asked, voice low and sultry.

Winston jumped off the bed and disappeared to wherever he liked to roam. Rose watched the Doctor, his brown eyes darkening. Her lips pulled into a slow, knowing smile and she let her tongue peek out at the corner of her mouth.

Got him every time.

One hand cupped her breast, fingers drifting over the light blue lace of her bra. The other slipped down her thigh, fingers trailing over the edges of her matching panties.

Frankly the lace _itched_. Her skin was super sensitive with her pregnancy. However, seducing her husband in cotton didn’t merge with her idea of _seduction_. Though with the way he looked at her, Rose didn’t think it mattered. Next time—after all, maybe it was she who needed to reevaluate _her_ idea of seduction.

“Oh,” he breathed.

In two long strides he crossed the room and knelt on the bed. Mouth on hers, hands cupping her face, tangling in her hair, he kissed her. A slow, deep kiss that curled her toes and sent bolts of lightning dancing along her skin.

Beneath his touch, she shivered. Arched against him, nails raking through his hair. He shuddered at her touch, groaned against her mouth. If possible deepened the kiss further, tongue gliding along hers.

“I need you, Doctor,” she whispered and scratched the nape of his neck. “I need to feel you moving inside me.”

“Rose,” he said again and she felt the burn of arousal across her skin. “Are you wet for me?”

His fingers caught hers and pressed against her wetness. Rose’s breath stopped and she opened her eyes. Watched his own blacken, the burn of arousal now an inferno.

“Yes,” she whispered and arched into their combined touch. “I’m always wet for you. I always want you. And tonight—” she pushed him back just enough to break the kiss—“I want to taste you.”

At her words, his fingers flexed against hers, pressed hard to her clit. 

“Swallow your cock,” Rose continued, breathless, hungry, “until you’re about to come.”

He moved their fingers against her, hard little circles that had her straining for release. “Then,” she managed, “ride you until all I can manage is to scream your name.”

The sound the Doctor made might have been her name or a yes or both. But the growl went straight through her, the noise rumbling in his chest and vibrating along her nerve endings.

The Doctor stood, fingers gone from her clit and she gasped in unfulfilled need. Eyes on hers, he hurriedly stripped. Rose watched him hungrily. Licked her lips, brought her hands to her breasts and cupped them, nipples aching for attention.

“Keep your knickers on,” he instructed. He tossed his clothes to the side, leaving them a crumpled mess. He’d regret that later. “But not your bra.”

Rose quickly unclasped the bra and freed her breasts. Her nipples were already hard and begging for his touch, his mouth. She cupped her breasts again, rolled the nipples between her fingers and watched the Doctor watch her.

When he finally kicked his pants off, his cock strained hard and delicious. Rose licked her lips and dragged her gaze to meet his. His marriage tattoos shone faintly in the light of their bedroom and Rose suddenly needed to touch them. Reaffirm their marriage, their connection.

“Sit on the edge of the bed,” she commanded.

He instantly obeyed and a surge of power or need or both licked through her veins. She loved it when he took control, when she submitted to him in every way. When her pleasure was in his hands and it throbbed through her in wild twists of need.

Before that side of him came to light, they shared a slightly different relationship.

And today, right now, she wanted that power back. Knew he willingly gave it to her. Kneeling before him, her belly settled comfortably, Rose kissed the inside of one thigh, teeth lightly nipping. Gentle kisses on the sensitive skin as her hands found his and once more covered her breasts.

His hands were large and cool against her heated skin, short nails scrapping along her sensitive nipples.

Rose kissed the tip of his cock, anxious to taste him. He made a sound, a whimper and a growl, and it set her right to the edge. He filed her mouth, his hardness cool, and she relaxed her throat. Took him deeper.

He pinched her nipples then released her breasts. His fingers traced their combined names on her tattoos, quick delicate touches that only served to stoke the fire burning within her. One hand tangled in her hair but didn’t pull. Never that. The other hand, she knew from experience, clenched in the bedding.

She cupped his balls, light touches of her fingertips as she kissed and licked his cock, sometimes taking him deep, other times teasing nips. Again and again she swallowed him, fingers danced along his inner thighs, stroked his cock.

“Christ, you’re so hot, Rose.” The words were growled, sparks of need between them. “Your mouth is an inferno and I want to burn in you.”

He jerked his hips and she easily kept pace, took him deeper, felt the cool slide of his cock in her hot mouth and wanted more. So much more. It pulsed through her. Her clit throbbed in time to her racing heart and her sex clenched.

She knew when he was close—even the Doctor for all his Time Lord superiority, couldn’t stop his hips from jerking upward. The growl caught in his throat. The burning need to bury himself in her scorched along their bond and fired through her blood.

“Rose.” A plea on gasps of need. _“Rose.”_

Body on fire, aching to feel him fill her, skin desperate and yearning for his touch, mind and heart and soul calling out to him, still Rose waited. Drew out the pleasure—his and hers and it burned through her. She moved slower, even slower, swallowing him deeper and felt that, too, pulse inside her.

Deliberately, despite arousal blazing through her, Rose slowly, slowly eased him from between her lips.

Took him back in only to pull back until only his tip remained in her mouth. Did it again. And once more.

The Doctor shuddered, close—so close—she knew, and he looked at her with drugged eyes.

“I want to ride you,” she whispered, the words thick and heavy.

Rose stood, not as fluidly as she wished with her belly, and her sex slick with want, and breasts begging for his touch. The Doctor tugged her knickers down her legs, face buried in her sex and _breathed_ in her scent.

Rose almost came from that alone, the eroticism of his gentle touch, the brush of fingers over her sex, light as a feather. His eyes as they locked on hers, so focused and intent.

Once more she took his hands and cupped her breasts. “I want you to make me come from touch alone. Then from your cock moving inside me.”

“Yes.” It was a growl of need and a promise and a vow.

Before she realized he moved, the Doctor easily, carefully, picked her up and shifted so he sat against the headboard, Rose on the tops of his thighs. Breath stopped in her throat, she braced her hands on his chest and shifted. Settled over his cock, she reached for him and sank down.

 _“Doctor.”_ The word escaped between her lips in pure satisfaction.

Rose rocked slowly against him. Her hair trailed down her back, along her spine. The Doctor’s hands tangled in the longer strands, his mouth hard against hers. Long, languid movements even though she wanted it hard and fast, sating her need again and again.

The instant he filled her, Rose wanted to prolong their pleasure.

Her marriage pendant slid across her skin and the TARDIS key shifted with it as she moved. Erotic touches of her lover even though he barely touched her.

A deliberate, easy, roll her hips brought him deeper again and again. His mouth nipped down her neck, and Rose knew he left marks. Good. She wanted his marks. His fingers left her hair and slid down her spine, made her bow against him, gasp at the heightened feel of his skin on hers.

When they touched every sense sharpened, merged with his love and arousal and exploded within her. Touch telepathy was possibly the best thing ever.

“Rose,” he breathed against her breast. Sucked hard on the nipple even as his fingers found her other one and pinched. “I’ll never get enough of you. I burn in your fire, and always want more.”

“I know.” The words slipped out as easily as he moved within her. “ _I know._ I feel the same. Always.”

 _“Until the end of time,”_ he promised in Gallifreyan.

She moved faster, hot need coiling tightly, an inferno through her. She clenched around him, strained for release. He felt it, had to know, found her clit. Touched it just enough to set her off. The wave of need crested, broke and Rose cried her release, hands on his shoulders.

“More,” she hissed, need still so tight through her nerves and veins. _“More.”_

His fingers moved over her, short little touches that pressed hard to the nerves there. The pleasure crested and broke and again she cried out, still rocking hard against him, clenching around him. It wasn’t enough, the need burned through her. Rose found his mouth, kissed him hard and sloppy, tongue and teeth and still she ached.

The climax took her by surprise and she sank her teeth into the Doctor’s shoulder. Deep enough, hard enough, to draw blood. Again. More. Please. _Please._

His hands settled hard on her hips, stopped her and Rose sobbed. “Doctor,” she growled, hungry for him, for his touch, for the snap of orgasm along their bond. The electricity dancing on her skin.

“Look at me,” he demanded, his voice low and gravelly. Control a thread between them. “Rose, my hearts, _look at me_.”

She managed to open her eyes and find his, black with need and wild, so wild she was amazed he hadn’t snapped. He kept her still, even though everything in her screamed to move, throbbed and clenched and pulsed around him; to feel his cock sliding within her.

He touched her pendant, skimmed over her tattoos, fingers gliding along her spine and over her arse. His jaw locked and his black eyes watched her and his need vibrated through her and she tasted her orgasm. Alive on her tongue, dancing over her skin it mixed with his taste and still she ached for more. For him.

Without warning, he lifted her and slammed her back down. Hard and fast as she craved but infinitely gentle. Careful and loving.

“Doctor,” she cried, then words were useless.

Her orgasm crashed through her, no, not crashed. Enveloped. Engulfed. Consumed.

Sated.

Fire spread through her veins, a hot rush. Rose clenched around his cock, angled her hips to take him even deeper.

And still he moved, guided her even as her orgasm built one last time, moved through her, all warmth and tingling fingers and wordless whimpers. The Doctor slammed up into her, filled her. Face buried in the crock of her neck, bond exploding with silvers and blues, he came.

“Rose.” She felt the word along her skin rather than heard him speak. Felt the bliss and contentment as he finally stilled within her. The love.

They stayed like that for a very long time, until Rose grew uncomfortable. Gently, with fingers that once pinched and tweaked and thrust, the Doctor lifted her off him. He slipped out and Rose sighed.

With careful, loving movements, light caresses, soft touches he set her against the headboard, plumped the pillows around her.

Pressed a lingering kiss to her swollen lips.

Rose closed her eyes, finally sated, limbs floating with the aftermath of pleasure, body humming. She was sensitive, God her entire body was so sensitive even the sheets of their bed scraped along her skin. But satisfied. The embers still aglow just beneath her skin. 

Sighing the Doctor’s true name, her hands settled on her belly and not for the first time was she glad the babe wouldn’t develop any telepathic abilities until puberty.

“Hmm,” she said as the Doctor joined her. “I know why Time Lords used looms.”

“Yeah,” he whispered, mouth pressed to her shoulder. “We missed teething and terrible twos and late night feedings. But we missed out on all those other things, too. The first time I saw my children, they were already around ten Earth years old and ready to join the Academy.”

Opening her eyes, she watched him steadily and lifted his hand, cupping the mound of her pregnancy as it usually did, and pressed her lips to his palm. “I’m sorry you didn’t have that with your family, Doctor.”

He didn’t say anything for long, long minutes and when he did speak, his voice was thick with emotion. “I have it now. I have it with you, my hearts.”

 ********  
“How are you feeling, Rose?” Donna asked the next morning.

“Fine.” Rose frowned. “Achy. Big.” She sighed and smoothed her dress over her belly. Green today, and fitted with a flared skirt and sleeves long enough to cover her marriage tattoos. Those were private. Theirs.

“Very big.”

“Beautiful,” the Doctor said as he entered the kitchens behind her. He kissed her cheek, caressed the spot, and set about making breakfast.

“Where are Martha and Jack?” Rose asked as she eased herself into her special chair. She sighed again, this time in contentment, and caressed the chair arms, sending a mental and very heartfelt _thank you_ to the TARDIS who hummed warmly in return.

“Haven’t seen them yet this morning,” Donna said and drank her coffee. “I almost had to do yoga myself.”

“Almost?” Rose asked as the Doctor clattered away at the counter. She felt mildly guilty about skipping out on daily yoga. But only mildly.

“Winston joined me.” Donna scowled into her coffee mug. “He looked like he was judging me when I didn’t start immediately. So I had to stay.”

Rose snickered and automatically lifted the glass of specially made smoothie the Doctor set in front of her. It was easier to take the multiple vitamins she needed in a drink rather than the vitamin shots.

Both Martha and the Doctor insisted the shots weren’t responsible for making her dizzy. Rose disagreed. Plus they upset her stomach.

Before Rose could answer Donna, Martha and Jack entered the kitchens. She eyed them critically, but they looked relaxed and at ease around each other. Held hands. No tension in their shoulders. Not a fight then.

Early morning sex? Probably, knowing Jack. And Martha, Rose amended. Right kinky couple they were.

“Morning you two,” she said and took another sip of her drink.

Jack grinned and winked, and sauntered off to help the Doctor. Martha slipped into the chair between her and Donna.

“What’s wrong?” Donna demanded the second she did so.

Startled, Martha looked at the redhead. “Nothing’s wrong,” she said, surprised, and Rose heard the honesty in her tone.

“We’re going back to UNIT,” Martha admitted. “We have obligations, and Jack wants to check out those rumors about Torchwood Harriet Jones told us about last night.”

A cold hand gripped her heart. It was amazing how much she hated Torchwood in this universe and how different the one Pete ran compared. How she, if not trusted that other Torchwood at least believed them capable of common sense.

Or believed Pete capable of common sense.

(Please let her family be safe. Please let Pete’s position protect them.)

“I thought they were destroyed,” Rose said in an approximation of normality.

It didn’t fool Martha who took her hand and squeezed. “They were,” she promised. “But Harriet heard a rumor about people in Cardiff.”

“The rift,” Rose supplied.

Martha merely nodded.

“What’s Torchwood?” Donna asked with a frown. “It sounds familiar. And what’s a rift?”

“Torchwood…” Rose trailed off and looked to the Doctor who watched her anxiously. “They’re responsible for the Battle of Canary Wharf.”

Donna only frowned harder but then slowly nodded. “With those metal things, yeah? The Doctor told me about them.”

“You didn’t—” Martha cut herself off and cleared her throat. “It’s not a discussion for over breakfast. We’ll look into it and keep you appraised.”

Rose nodded and tried to will away the tension that settled in her. The nerves. The fear. Had Jack told the Doctor about this? If he had, the Doctor kept it from her. Rose didn’t think that was the case—until Jack joined the Doctor at the kitchen counter, she hadn’t sensed any anger or tension in her husband. The sheer rage he felt in relation to anything Torchwood.

But they ate breakfast with no talk of Touchwood or problems or even UNIT. And after breakfast, and her daily check-up by the Jack-named Dynamic Medical Duo, and another three _one more time_ bathroom stops for Rose, they took their positions around the console. The Doctor stood by Donna as he guided her in her portion of piloting the TARDIS.

She wasn’t expert, not yet, but Donna learned fast.

They landed outside London UNIT headquarters without incident on the correct day and time (Martha slipped out to double check, but other than that once with her first Doctor, Rose couldn’t remember a time (no pun intended) where they were so off in a deliberate landing.)

TARDIS doors wide open to the quiet courtyard, Martha and Jack said their goodbyes. Hugging her friends tightly, Rose pulled back and looked hard between them. She swallowed her tears. “Call us if you need. For anything.”

“Promise,” Martha agreed.

Jack nodded. “You, too. For anything!”

He turned to the Doctor. They had a quiet conversation, not their first in the previous days, and Rose wondered what they talked about. What secrets they kept.

“Take care, Rosie,” Jack said and hugged her tight. “You better keep us updated.” He looked over his shoulder at the Doctor. “Daily!”

“Definitely!” Rose promised as Jack hugged Donna and Martha promised to check in on her Gramps and mum. “And we won’t be gone for long.”

She grimaced and rubbed her stomach again. The Doctor slipped beside her and took her hand in his, thumb running along her knuckles.

“Only three more months,” the Doctor said, paused. “Maybe four,” he hedged.

Rose only sighed. Longest pregnancy ever. Ugh.

“I’ll call daily,” Martha promised. “And when you’re closer to your due date, we’ll enact the plan.” She paused. “Plans.”

She, Rose, and Donna laughed, exchanged another round of hugs, and stepped back. Martha took Jack’s hand and they turned for the door.

Which was when the TARDIS’s doors slammed shut. And when the TARDIS Herself shook and rumbled as She hadn’t in ages. And when the Doctor lost it.

“What?” he shouted.

“Doctor!” Rose managed from where she held onto the coral strut. “What did you do?”

“Nothing! It wasn’t me! What are you doing?” he demanded of the ship. He made his slow way around the controls, fighting constantly to stay upright. “What are you _doing_? Rose is here!”

It was a fight against gravity or whatever equivalent was in the TARDIS while She was in flight. Jack gripped the edge of the controls but nothing either of them did had any effect on the ship.

“Controls are frozen!” Jack called.

The Doctor cursed in Gallifreyan—Rose understood the words even if he refused to teach her any of the bad language in his native tongue. Either the TARDIS translated for her despite this mad takeoff or _fuck_ truly was as universal as she always assumed.

Rose, panicked, gripped Donna like a lifeline. She couldn’t make it to the jumpseat, where the TARDIS installed a harness especially for her. Though with all of them driving Her, the shaking certainly lessened.

Now, with this unexpected takeoff, Rose barely remained upright against a coral strut. Her fear clashed with the Doctor’s and all Rose knew was that none of them were in control.

And it was terrifying.

Martha, holding onto the console, grimaced. “Doctor, what are you doing?” she demanded.

“I’m not doing anything! I was nowhere near the console! She just…went mad!” he shouted back.

“Omph!” Donna stumbled and fell to one knee before pushing herself upright almost immediately to steady Rose. “Spaceman you better stop this!” she growled at the Doctor. In the same breath Donna soothed her. “It’s all right, Rose. I’ve got you.”

Rose appreciated that and held tight. One arm wrapped around the strut, the other tight around Donna.

“That freaky alien hand thing is bubbling,” Donna shouted into the melee.

“Ohh,” the Doctor looked down then back up and grinned. “I don’t know what’s going on, but my old hand’s very excited about it!”

“Yours?” Donna shouted and now Rose thought she sounded disgusted.

“It got cut off,” Rose supplied and tried to keep the fear from her voice. She gripped Donna’s arm tighter, steadied herself as best as possible against the strut. Martha stumbled along the grating and helped steady her.

“He grew a new one,” Martha added as the shaking somehow increased.

“You are completely impossible!” Donna yelled at him.

“Naaa,” Jack supplied as he continued to flick buttons and turn seemingly useless knobs. “He’s just a bit unlikely!”

“Exactly!” the Doctor said to Donna. Then to the TARDIS he begged. Pleaded. It came so clearly across their bond, like the constant plucking of a violin string. “Please stop. Rose isn’t strapped in.” He looked up, met Rose’s eyes. “Can you make it to the seat?”

His words echoed over the shaking and shuddering and just when Rose thought it safer with Donna rather than walking in this uncertainty, it stopped. Everything just…stilled.

The Doctor stood beside her in two long strides. He whipped out his sonic and scanned her even as Donna released her tight hold and Martha clasped her hand and Jack joined them.

“I’m okay,” Rose whispered.

She took a deep breath, but felt fine. Her heart slowed and the fear roaring in her ears lessened.

“Everything looks fine,” the Doctor admitted.

He studied the sonic’s readouts and nodded. Martha grabbed it out of his hand and read the readout as well. She nodded her agreement.

“But we should get you to the med bay and double check,” he added.

“No.” Rose shook her head. “I’m all right. And the TARDIS, She brought us here for a reason. I mean when was the last time She closed Her doors and took off?”

The Doctor opened his mouth only to shut it with an annoyed click. “Hmm,” he grumbled.

But he eyed her carefully, and she felt him testing the limits of their connection. Prodding for anything out of place, anything out of sorts with her or the babe. Finding nothing, as they both knew he would, he released a breath and Rose felt the tension ease completely from her as well.

Almost completely, because the last time the TARDIS went a little crazy was when they fell into that alternate universe. The landings were one thing, other than stops on Earth to visit family, it was always 50-50 whether they landed where they wanted to.

This? Totally different.

“All right,” he agreed. “But stay close. I don’t know what to expect out there.”

Donna snorted. “Like you do any time we land?” She snickered at the Doctor’s affronted look.

“I’ll go first,” Jack said.

The Doctor looked like he wanted to object but given Jack was just as stubborn, he only gave a short, hard nod. Jack eased open the door and stepped out. Only a minute passed before he called the all clear.

The Doctor went next. Then Donna and Martha and finally Rose.

“A tunnel?” Donna asked.

The Doctor walked back from where he examined a crate of stuff and took Rose’s hand. He kissed her palm and she held the back of his hand against her cheek. Breathed deeply and nodded. She was all right.

“We’re in a great big…storage tunnel.” Donna whirled to face him, hands on her hips. “Doctor, you take us to the nicest places.”

“Better than the sewers,” Martha said with a shrug.

“Or those trash pits on Penmil,” Jack added.

“Ugh,” Rose agreed and scrunched her nose in remembered disgust. “I never want to see that planet again.”

And that was when the soldiers found them. And that was when they dragged the Doctor to their breeding machines. And that was when he produced a daughter.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Additions to the Family (with apologies to the always beautiful Georgia Moffet who is wonderful as is…this is for plot purposes only)

“Wow,” Jack whispered in the sudden silence after the machine doors opened. “Oh, wow.”

“ _Jack._ ” The Doctor drew out his name in warning.

Jack, of course, ignored him.

Donna slapped him. “Oi, no ogling!”

Jack ignored her, too. It didn’t make the Doctor feel any better. Didn’t help the confusion, either. “You must’ve wished really hard.”

“What?” the Doctor asked, confused—more so than he was a moment ago.

He glared at Jack then looked down at Rose who stood beside him looking as stunned as he felt, then to the girl—woman—standing there, fully grown. And dressed. How’d they get clothes on her when they only took a tissue sample?

He was fairly positive he didn’t have combat clothing in his tissue sample.

(The uniform he wore during the Time War was far less a military uniform despite his rank as general and far more his own clothing. Romana let him wear what he wanted—she didn’t care about _clothes_ , though many others did. Especially the High Council who continued to wear their robes.

No, Romana only cared about stopping the Daleks without losing their very souls.

So he wore what he found comfortable at the time. Not his velvet coat and cravat, despite having grown quite attached to them. Leather jacket. Boots. Cut his hair. As if changing his outward appearance changed who he was deep inside.

Maybe it did.

And then Rassilon usurped Romana and the Doctor vowed to stop the war at the cost of his own soul.

But no. No military uniform. Definitely not.)

No, no; better she be clothed than step out of that machine naked. Yes. Much better.

Blinked between Rose and the woman and Jack and _what in creation was going on here?_

_“What?”_ he repeated.

Martha took his hand and examined the back of it, but he didn’t look down. The cut was shallow and already started to close. It’d completely heal in a matter of hours. He wasn’t worried.

About that.

“Like seriously,” Jack continued as if he hadn’t heard the Doctor. Or hadn’t cared. Probably that. “What’d you give up? What’d you sacrifice? A regeneration? A hundred years? I mean this is perfect.”

_“What?”_ The Doctor demanded. Again.

Rose made a sound, a faint gasping-gurgling noise that expressed more surprise than anger. Confusion, too. Good. He wasn’t the only one, then.

“A regeneration?” Donna asked weakly. “What’s that?”

“Oh, yeah.” Jack nodded and stepped back, eyeing the Doctor critically now. He looked to Rose then back to the Doctor. “Really? _Really?_ No one sees it but me?”

“Sees _what_?” Donna demanded.

“Look at those eyes!” Jack gestured to the woman still looking regally at them as if suspended in time and turned to the Doctor.

He looked down at Rose and the Doctor felt an unreasonable need to shield her. Protect her. Maybe not so unreasonable, he felt that need since _Run_ after all. 

“They’re yours,” Jack continued. “Old yours. Younger yours? Previous yours. And that hair? Come on, that’s totally Rose’s shade. Seriously, you must’ve given up something because this is exactly how I pictured your daughter.”

He felt Rose’s hand slip into his, the marked one, and hold tight. His lifeline. He tore his gaze from the woman standing tall and confident before them and looked to his wife. The weight of her wedding ring bumped against his fingers and he suddenly wanted very desperately to reaffirm their vows.

(Was this considered running?)

Rose watched him steadily, concerned. Worried. For him.

“Blonde hair, blue eyed?” Jack turned to look at him. Folded his arms over his chest and nodded decisively.

Martha stepped back and looked at them curiously. She’d seen pictures, of course. Rose had dozens of them from before Jack first joined the TARDIS and dozens more with the three of them. Had Donna? The Doctor’s mind whirled and raced even faster than he could keep up.

Did it matter? He blinked again.

This was, by far, the strangest thing to happen to him in all his long lives.

Probably.

This was, by far, the strangest thing to happen to him in all his long lives.

“Oh yeah,” Jack said with a knowing smirk. “Totally your kid. Well previous you anyway. That you and Rose’s kid.”

“Previous you?” Donna asked.

“I’ll show you pictures later,” Rose promised.

“Does this have anything to do with that hand in a jar?” Donna asked.

Hand in the jar? Which hand was that? Was that also his right? Yes. Yes, it was. The right hand Rose held. Did that have _anything_ to do with anything?

(It was always his right hand. Wasn’t it? Always his right in her left. Skin to skin. Since the first. Right hand in hers, right hand chopped off, right hand in machine.)

Donna stood just behind Rose, hovering around her. It took the Doctor a minute to realize Donna worried for Rose after the unexpected take off of the TARDIS and then…this. Martha hadn’t moved far from Rose, either. And Jack, well, he always stood guard.

At that moment, with everything else going on, his affection for his friends swamped him.

They were right, all of them. They weren’t traveling companions. They were family.

However, the Doctor ignored Donna. Because…because…well. _Daughter._

“That’s so unfair!” Rose groused.

_**“What?”**_ the Doctor repeated.

He looked at her incredulously and blinked. Rose rested her free hand over her belly, smoothing the soft pink material of her top over the large mound of her pregnancy. She frowned up at him and shrugged. He knew she wasn’t upset, well, not upset over the sudden appearance of a daughter.

His daughter. (Theirs?) Upset over the means, yes. The violation.

Her words nonetheless perplexed him.

“Maybe that’s the way to go rather than—” she patted her belly—“months and months of this.”

“Arm yourself,” the very young soldier said and handed the woman—daughter—a weapon. The Doctor cringed, scowled. Wanted to tear the weapon out of her hands and toss it away.

“Wait a minute,” the Doctor protested and took a step closer to the (yes okay, blonde haired blued eyed woman who did look remarkably like his previous self’s imaginings of his and Rose’s child) woman.

“Who is she?” Donna demanded even as the woman—daughter—checked her weapon.

“My, well,” he hedged. The word stuck in his throat. “Daughter.”

“Hello, Dad.”

“At least we don’t have to worry about teething and late night feedings,” Rose sighed. “We skip right to worrying about boys.”

The Doctor glared down at her. “This isn’t funny.”

“It is,” Rose said and smiled with that hint of tongue at the corner of her mouth. “A little. Admit it.”

She bumped his hip, thumb still running along the back of his knuckles, careful of the mark. She leaned her chin against his arm and smiled up at him. The Doctor sighed and looked back up at the woman. He didn’t know what this was, frankly. But he didn’t like his daughter arming herself.

“Daughter?” Donna demanded.

“I’ve seen things like this before. Not quite to this, ah…level,” Jack admitted. “Easiest way to colonize a planet.”

“Yes,” the Doctor choked out, trying to steer the conversation away from the woman—daughter—but when the words came out of his mouth he realized he failed miserably.

“Progenation. Reproduction from a single organism. Means one parent is biological mother and father. You take a sample of diploid cells, split them into haploids, then recombine them in a different arrangement and grow.”

“Like the looms.” Martha cocked her head to the side. “Rose is right. Much easier. Then again, you miss out on quite a bit this way.”

“Hmmm,” he mumbled. “Apparently the tissues grow very quickly.”

“What’s the minimum viable population?” Martha asked. “Or do they not worry about that? Just keep reproducing via tissue samples? No…ah… _regular_ reproduction?”

Before he had the chance to answer Martha, or really process any of this, they were attacked and things went to the next level of hell. Perfect.

********  
“Martha and Jack will be fine,” the Doctor told Rose.

He rubbed her back, studiously ignoring (his daughter) the woman standing across from him, leaning against the cell’s bars. Donna, traitor Donna, not only named her (is—their?—daughter) but engaged the woman (daughter) in conversation. He only half listened. Well…60% listened. Maybe 63%...68%...

“I know,” Rose sighed.

She leaned against him for a moment then shifted uncomfortably. He tried to accommodate her, tried to make her as comfortable as possible, but the bench was small and there really was nowhere to shift. Instead he rubbed her back in small circles and pressed light kisses to the nape of her neck.

“I don’t like them being separated,” she said on a long groan of relief. A particularly tight knot in her muscles suddenly loosened beneath his fingers. “And I don’t like that Martha’s phone died.”

“Jack called back,” the Doctor reminded her. “They’re fine. With the Hath and all.”

After the tunnel collapsed and he called Martha’s phone, which died (unexpectedly—it was the same phone Martha traveled with for ages—it _never_ should’ve died), Jack called to say they were fine. The Hath took them to their base and he promised to keep Martha safe. (Martha interrupted and added she’d keep Jack safe.

The Doctor chose to tune out the salacious remark Jack made to that.)

Even separated and prisoners, for all intents and purposes, they sounded just fine.

Rose pulled back and glared at him over her shoulder. Just to make her point, apparently, then resumed her position with a long sigh. “Not my point. I thought it wasn’t supposed to die. Universal roaming and all that.”

The Doctor tugged his ear in chagrin then pressed his fingers once more to the small of her back. “Ah. Yes. That. Probably should’ve added that to their phones. I mean I did the roaming part. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Rose agreed. “No jiggery pokery?”

She grinned over her shoulder at him and even though they sat in a cell and even though they were separated from their missing friends with no obvious way back to the TARDIS or out of danger, the sight of his wife smiling at him and reminding him of past adventures sent a shock of light through him. Eased his thoughts, if only a little.

The Doctor shook his head. “I’ll update everyone’s phone soon as we get back to the TARDIS,” he promised.

Eyes narrowed, she again struggled to turn around on the small bench. “Even yours?”

He frowned at the telling, somewhat threatening look, and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I don’t know where my phone is,” he confessed.

“I know. Find it. Use it. Wear it around your neck, strap it to your arm, I don’t care,” she said in a low voice with only a hint of a threat. “But you keep that phone near you.”

“Rose,” he sighed. “I’m always with you.”

Since her pregnancy, he rarely let her out of his sight. It terrified him, not being close to her. The Doctor wasn’t certain it’d get any better after the birth. Wasn’t certain he cared, either. He liked their new closeness. The way they fit so well. Like it was _before_ when only the two of them traveled onboard the TARDIS.

“And if I’m not,” he continued in what he thought a reasonable voice, “our bond allows me to monitor you, your pregnancy, your location—”

“ _Doctor_ ,” she growled and now it was a threat. “Find your phone before I go into labor. Got me?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned and pressed his lips to her forehead. “But you’re not going into labor here,” he added with another kiss to her cheek.

He hated she was in danger as it was. Why had the TARDIS brought them here?

The sudden closing of doors and erratic takeoff terrified him. His ship wasn’t saying (not that She ever did) but the fact something like this was even possible made the Doctor want to keep Rose comfortably hidden in the furthest back storage room he could find.

Not to mention they caused a circular paradox. Well, the TARDIS did. Why would the TARDIS do such a thing?

“No,” Rose sighed mournfully, interrupting his thoughts. She rubbed her belly and grimaced. “No labor for an infinity of months yet.”

“What’s labor?” the woman (Jenny) asked.

Maybe Rose had a point about naming all their children the same. It did cause confusion. Already he referred to the woman by _Jenny_ simply because it sounded easier. Even in his head. Then again, was that woman really their daughter? He looked at his hand, the right one. The one Rose always held.

Some of her altered DNA was on his skin, the Doctor knew it. Had some of Rose’s genes combined in his tissue sample? He reached into his pocket for his sonic, intent on scanning the woman. Daughter.

_Jenny._

And then her question registered.

“When Rose has the baby,” Donna supplied gently if a tad awkwardly. “The, ah, the process of pushing the baby out into the world is called labor.”

The Doctor suddenly wondered what they talked about while he and Rose conversed. And then wondered if he really wanted to know.

“Baby?” the stranger…

No that didn’t work either. Woman, then. No, the more he looked at her the more Jack’s words haunted him. She really did look like how he envisioned their children looking—all blonde hair and blue eyed. The Doctor swallowed hard.

Jenny then. It had to be. What a hypocrite he’d be if he ignored the strange and unusual and new. Wasn’t that why he traveled? Was that not what he loved about the universe?

“We don’t have children like you ah…create them,” Donna continued. She glanced between them and Jenny and gestured awkwardly. “We have to wait nine months.” She broke off looked askance at Rose.

Rose only sighed again and tried to find a comfortable position. Frustrated, she struggled to stand. The Doctor rushed to help her, sonic and scanning momentarily forgotten.

“My pregnancy is a little longer,” Rose added softly. She squeezed his hand, careful of the cut, and stepped forward. “Donna’s right. You’re…unique.”

“Are you my mum, then?” Jenny asked. She tilted her head and it was so near how Rose did, the Doctor’s hearts clenched.

In panic or familiarity or something else he didn’t know.

Rose mimicked the look, the head tilt thinking one, and shrugged. She paced the small cell, one hand on her back. Grimacing, she let out a long, slow breath. She wasn’t in pain, not that he sensed at least, but she was uncomfortable.

These days, with her pregnancy so advanced, she was often uncomfortable.

“I supposed I am.” Rose nodded and grinned. “Yup!” she said in a perfect imitation of him. “Not how I expected my first born to come into this universe, but I’ve seen stranger things.”

“Jenny,” Donna said and stood by Rose. “We can name her something else…”

“Nope!” Rose smiled wider and turned to Donna. She grabbed the other woman’s hand and squeezed. “Jenny is perfect. Thank you, Donna.”

“May I?” Jenny walked a couple steps closer, one hand tentatively held out. “I mean—”

She snatched her hand away. Hid it behind her back like a recalcitrant child. Looked from Rose to him and back again. Cleared her throat and tried to smile. It was faint at best. Jenny shifted from one foot to the other then straightened and nodded.

“I mean,” she continued in a stronger voice, “is it a girl or boy?” She tilted her head again.

Once more the Doctor’s hearts clenched at the sight.

“Or is there another gender in your species?” Her hand waved around a little—over Rose’s belly, to indicate the outside of the cell, at herself, Donna, and even him. “I’ve only seen the two here, but this is only Messaline. And the Hath don’t have genders—not that we know of at least. Are there many other planets out there?”

“A girl. We’re having a girl,” Rose said.

She grabbed Jenny’s hand; the one Jenny didn’t seem to know what to do with. The one once more hovering around Rose’s belly, opening and closing indecisively. Rose pressed it to one side of her stomach and Jenny’s eyes widened.

“Oh.” The word was faint and filled with awe and the Doctor thought maybe it wasn’t so bad.

Rose accepted her. Why couldn’t he?

Because this reminded him of the Looms? Ridiculous—he had an entire family via the Looms on Gallifrey. One he cared for and still mourned. Because any and all children he wanted now he wanted with Rose?

He pulled out his sonic again, forgotten in his pocket with his worry over Rose. A quick scan, nothing more. Just a little scan of (Jenny’s) molecular biology to prove she was indeed both their daughter.

His thumb hovered over the setting but he didn’t set the sonic to scan. Vacillating between a deep seeded desire to _know_ and one to simply accept, he twiddled the sonic between his fingers. It did nothing to help his decision making process.

“Doctor.” Rose’s voice was soft and understanding.

He looked up, somewhat guiltily and hastily returned the sonic to his pocket. She held out her hand for his and he took it. Closed the distance between them and clasped her hand tightly. The contact sent warmth and understanding through him and he relaxed.

“I’d like you to meet our daughter—Jenny Donna Tyler.”

“Oh!” Donna gasped.

Then Donna clutched the wall and doubled over, heaving. One hand pressed to her head, fingers white even as she sagged against the wall, breath short.

“What’s wrong with her?” Jenny demanded, clearly frightened.

She moved to help Donna, steady her against the wall. The guard didn’t so much as look at them for which the Doctor was eternally grateful.

“Donna?” Rose asked, panicked.

“No, no.” Donna waved a feeble hand. But she did not move from Jenny’s hold. “I’m okay. I’m fine. Just…a little dizzy.” She shook her head and looked strangely at Rose for a heartbeat. “I’m fine.”

Before she could say more, he heard General Cobb’s voice calling the humans to war. Wonderful. Just bloody wonderful. His newly created daughter and his pregnant wife in the middle of a war. The Doctor ran his hand over his face.

“Do you hear that?” Jenny asked and cocked her head.

“I’m rubbish at keeping you safe,” he muttered.

Rose, pale but strong, once again grabbed his hand. “But we’re together. Yeah?”

He gave her a soft smile. The one that started slow and covered his entire face. “Yeah.”

The Doctor pulled her to him, gently kissed her lips, and whispered in Gallifreyan. _“Always together, my hearts.”_

“What did you say?” Jenny Donna Tyler—their daughter—asked. She shook her head and blinked. “Did you hear that?”

“Oh,” Donna said weakly. “It’s his crazy language. You get used to their little moments. Either that,” she sighed, “or go mad trying to avoid them.”

“Can you teach me?” Jenny asked, excited.

“Sure,” the Doctor said before he had a chance to temper his words. Well, she was his daughter and he did promise Rose he’d teach _all_ their children both versions of Gallifreyan. “When we get out of here.”

“I can help with that!” Jenny said eagerly and turned to the bars and the young guard supposedly watching them.

 

“I don’t think he’s ready for the dating years,” Donna said to Rose as Jenny flirted with the guard. “In fact,” she continued in an entirely too amused voice. “I think he’s about to lock Jenny in a very distant room in the TARDIS.”

Rose snickered. “Our little girl, all grown up.”

He very valiantly restrained from commenting. Instead the Doctor sniffed in disdain. Donna only snickered harder.

Then Rose sighed and rubbed her back again. Grimacing, she leaned tiredly on the Doctor. Worried, he pulled out the sonic again and scanned Rose. Squinting at the readouts, he pulled his glasses from the same pocket.

Rose made a choked sound and he looked up at her, blinked once and grinned.

She whimpered and he knew exactly what she thought. Felt. _Wanted._ He smiled slowly and pushed every ounce of want across their bond. Shame now was not the time.

Definitely not the time.

“Everything looks fine,” he said instead of kissing her. “But I’m afraid we’re going to need to run.”

“There’s always an awful lot of running with you two,” Donna sighed. “Seriously, there’s an outrageous amount of running involved.”

She sounded stronger now and the Doctor wondered what happened—a Time Ripple. The instant he thought that, the instant he knew that was the case. He didn’t want this changed. He didn’t want to know this was meant to be but something was not, was off, was not as it was now.

Swallowing hard, he clasped Rose’s hand in his. Ran his thumb over the back of her knuckles. Rose grimaced but nodded. She knew what Donna’s reaction meant, too.

Donna never said she had visions-memories-dreams of alternate happenings. He’d have to ask her. Just…not right now.

“Let’s get out of here first,” Rose said as Jenny flirted with the guard.

The Doctor sighed and watched Jenny. “Look at that,” he muttered. “Already collecting pretty boys.”

Rose snickered. She pressed her lips together but couldn’t stop the grin. But her voice was soft and gentle, a whisper of promise and memory. “Just like her mother.”

Then Jenny pulled the guard toward her and effectively knocked him out via head-to-bars. The Doctor could only shake his head. She was Rose’s daughter, all right.

“Find Martha and Jack,” Rose continued with a knowing smirk tossed his way, “stop this war, and find the TARDIS.” She sighed wearily. “I could do with a rest.”

“Maybe a nice spa,” Donna offered as he sonicked the cell door open.

The Doctor shuddered. Rose shook her head and held his hand tighter as he helped her around the unconscious body of the Messaline guard.

“Last spa we went to?” Rose shuddered again. “Nightmare. Literally. No thanks,” she whispered as they crept along the hall and down the stairs. “I’ll skip the next one.”

“Then we better get _your_ spa up and running,” Donna whispered from behind them. “I could use a massage!”

He might never visit Rose’s UNIT spa. Just on principle. The principle of never visiting a spa again after Midnight. No, he was not in any sort of mood to repeat the nightmare of Midnight. Ever.

They ran down the hallway. Rather they quick-walked down the hallway. Worried, his hearts pounding out of sync as he watched Rose struggle, the Doctor quickly swept her into his arms. He didn’t often flout his strength, preferred to use his brain—it was the bigger muscle, after all. But he refused to let Rose suffer.

“Doctor!” Rose gasped but held tight.

Her fingers brushed the nape of his neck, automatically tangled in the hair there. The Doctor shivered at her touch and glanced at her, but didn’t stop or slow. He didn’t kiss her, either, which was a feat in and of itself, considering that was all he wanted anymore.

To taste her skin and kiss her lips and breathe her in.

“You still have about nine or ten weeks, Rose. At best.” He swallowed the harsh worry in his tone as best he could. “I don’t want you going into labor on this planet and I sure as hell don’t want you having our baby early.”

He stumbled to a stop, held Rose close and squinted at the tunnel. “Donna, do us a favor and check the map, yeah?”

Donna did as requested and showed the readout to him. Jenny crept up beside them. 

“This is it, then,” he mumbled and set Rose carefully on the floor.

He cupped her face, pushed her hair off her cheeks. Several of the long tresses fell from the tight braid he’d woven for her that morning. “All right?”

“Yeah,” she whispered and took a deep breath, released it slowly. “Fine.”

He nodded, only half believing her. “I’ll get us out of here,” he promised.

“All of us,” she whispered.

He heard the strain in her voice. Felt the fear as her fingers curled around his wrists.

“Rose maybe you should stay here,” Donna said, worry coloring her voice in heavy strokes. “I mean I know you’re used to this running and all, plus that freaky yoga you do, but…”

“No. I’m not staying.” She grimaced again. “But this may be out last trip until the baby is born.”

“We’ll work on the spa idea, then,” Donna promised. “Get all the paperwork handled and turned in.” Donna wiggled her fingers. “Fastest temp in Chiswick, remember?”

Rose laughed and relaxed, and for that the Doctor could kiss Donna. Then Donna held out the map and carefully slung her arm around Rose’s middle. When Donna looked up at him, the fierceness in her gaze took him aback.

“Get us out of here, spaceman.”

He nodded. He didn’t need to be told twice. Or once for that matter. He didn’t want Rose here, in the middle of this war, running, of all things, through abandon tunnels.

“This has got to be the hidden tunnel. There must be a control panel somewhere.”

“Oh.” Donna stopped and used her free hand to point up at the wall. “It’s another one of those numbers. They’re everywhere.”

“The original builders must have left them,” he said, not really caring.

He needed to get them out of here. If they circled round, returned to the TARDIS, he could use Jack’s phone to lock onto he and Martha, pick them up, and leave this planet.

“Some old cataloguing system,” he added, still studying the map. “It doesn’t matter. I think if we go right here, we can circle round to the TARIDS.”

“We’re not leaving without stopping this war,” Rose gritted out.

“Rose.” He turned to her, frantic and afraid and at a complete loss. “I need to get you back. I need you out of harm’s way.”

“We’re not leaving, Doctor,” she said again. “Not until there really is peace in our time.”

One hand slung around Donna shoulders, the other held her belly. But she looked at him fiercely, brandy eyes blazing with angry determination. What he loved so much about her.

“You got a pen? Bit of paper?” Donna asked into the tense silence. She shifted Rose a bit but held tight to her. “I’ve got you, Rose. We’ll all get out of here.”

Then she looked up at the Doctor and nodded toward the string of numbers again. “I think these numbers have something to do with the war. Don’t you see? They’re counting down. This one ends in one four. The prison cell said one six.”

“Always thinking, aren’t you?” Jenny asked, awed.

“They do look familiar,” Rose admitted and squinted up at them. “Like I’ve seen ‘em somewhere before. In the other world, maybe.”

Jenny took the paper and pen from the Doctor and handed it to Donna. Then, without being asked, took Donna’s place by Rose. Carefully wrapped her arm under Rose’s shoulders and held tight. The Doctor’s hearts clenched and he forgot how to breathe.

“Are you really my mother?” Jenny asked softly as Donna wrote the numbers down.

The lump in the Doctor’s throat tightened. He could hear Rose’s voice as clearly as if she spoke. _Family are in this together, Doctor. And we’re all family. Got that?_

“Yeah,” Rose whispered and he heard the choked emotion in that single word. “Yeah, I’m your mum.”

They slowly continued down the tunnel, voices low. He barely paid attention to their surroundings, except of course he did. Every sense strained to hear anything that might endanger Rose and the baby…and Donna and Jenny.

Should’ve said _family_ there, he decided. Should’ve said _anything that might endanger my family._

Yup.

“What do you do then? Do you work?” Jenny paused. “You already said you don’t fight, so what else is there?”

He couldn’t see Jenny, not from in front of her where he led their little family down unfamiliar tunnels. But he knew, he just knew, she tilted her head to the side.

“Or do you have babies?”

He choked and stumbled. Whipped around and stared in stunned surprise. _“What?”_

“I do not,” Rose said through gritted teeth, “only have babies.”

“Run,” Donna put in quickly. Humor colored the word but when he glared at her she looked innocently back at him.

“We run,” Donna continued. “Save planets, rescue civilizations, defeat terrible creatures. Stop wars. And run. A lot. Seriously,” she sighed as they came to a turn. “There really is an outrageous amount of running involved.”

“I like the running.” Rose grinned at him. “It’s how we first met.”

“You were running and you met?” Jenny asked, confused.

“My bet is the Doctor blew something up and they had to run,” Donna put in.

The Doctor glared at her. Glared harder when Rose laughed. Donna cast him a triumphant grin. And that was when General Cobb’s voice echoed toward them.

Damn.

“Running,” the Doctor sighed and sonicked the door. “Yes there will be running. Rose?” He pushed open the door and turned to his wife. “Can you make it on your own?”

She grimaced and shook her head. “I can,” she said quietly, “but I’m not sure I should.”

The Doctor nodded and easily lifted her into his arms. His pace was limited, but it didn’t matter. They didn’t exactly race down the corridor, but they did move faster than a quick march.

“Jenny,” Donna said beside them. “Run up ahead and tell us what’s there.”

The woman did as instructed only to return seconds later. “Lasers,” she said flatly.

They continued on and rounded another corner. And sure enough…lasers.

“Damn,” Rose cursed softly.

The Doctor gently lowered her to the floor. He ran a hand over his face, ruffled it through his hair. “Damn,” he agreed.

“So…not mood lighting, then?” Donna asked.

He reached into his pockets and found a windup mouse. Tossed it into the laser field…where it disintegrated.

“Hey!” Rose protested. “That was Winston’s favorite toy!”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No family left behind--PLEASE read author note for warnings/spoilers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note and slight chapter spoiler: Until I started writing this chapter and really going over the emotions, I hadn't realized how subtle RTD was with what is essentially the Doctor's rape via that machine. The soldiers hold him down and force his hand into the reproducing machine completely against his will. I don't go into detail over it except when Rose is berating both human and Hath for violating the Doctor and later when she and the Doctor are discussing it.
> 
> However, I do want readers to be aware of the subject matter discussed in this chapter. If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to contact me.

_“No.”_

Hand tightening around Jenny’s cold, limp one, Rose looked up from where she sat in the hard chair by her daughter’s body. Her arms ached and her back protested but no matter what anyone said, she refused to move.

The Doctor sat with her a while, rubbed the small of her back, pressed understanding if not soothing kisses to her temple. Eventually he moved. Grieved on his own. Walked the length of this place, this underground city, and eventually took up position by the wall. Red Chucks crossed, hands in pockets, eyes distant.

It didn’t fool her, his interest in terraforming, in Messaline. They were having a serious talk about that when they returned to the TARDIS.

He allowed her to grieve while he tamped down on his own emotions. Locked them away.

While they waited. For hours they waited for a sign, any sign Jenny might regenerate. Nothing. No sign, no spark, no hint of it. Hollowed out by piercing grief, Rose hadn’t known what else to do save sit and hold Jenny’s hand.

“Ma’am,” Cline said then faltered, clearly taken aback by her refusal.

His proposal was perfectly natural, Rose supposed. She simply refused to entertain the idea of letting these Messalines bury Jenny after so much bloodshed and death. Including Jenny’s.

“She’s the one who brought us together,” Cline tried again. “We’ll give her a proper ceremony, I promise.”

_“No.”_ Rose repeated.

She swiped the back of her hand across her cheeks and struggled to stand. Instantly the Doctor appeared by her side, strong and stoic. But she felt him. Oh, she felt the choking pressure, the weight of grief, the impotence of loss.

“Rose,” he whispered. The word caught but the feeling came clear through their bond.

Anguish and sorrow and a complete helplessness to deal with joy turned crushing grief.

“I’m not leaving her, Doctor. I’m not leaving our daughter—” the word caught and she swallowed hard—“ _here_.”

She turned her glare from him to Cline. And spoke. She didn’t think of them or how they felt, only the chasm of sorrow that swallowed her.

“I know you think it’ll help _you_ ,” she spat at the hapless soldier. “But _you_ were the ones to kill her. Cobb might’ve pulled that trigger, but you lot were no better. Following him, chasing after us. Trying to kill us because we didn’t agree with you.”

She didn’t even add the additional strain on her body when they needed to run. Rose wanted to pull the pregnancy card but didn’t even know if they understood. Probably not one of those facts _downloaded_ into their brains.

“And no more forcibly creating people!” she shouted. “What you did was a violation no two ways about it.”

She took a deep breath and looked back down at Jenny. Rose saw no violation only her daughter and wondered if she’d feel the same had she been forcibly…she shook her head. Now wasn’t the time and this wasn’t the place and she had so much more to say to Cline and his Hath crony.

“ _Orders_ ,” she sneered, raising her eyes to flick between the Messalines. “Maybe, yes. But you killed each other for land you already both promised to share.”

“We’re going to keep our promise,” Cline rushed to say.

His Hath partner nodded frantically, his green liquid bubbling. Rose didn’t care. Some small part of her acknowledged her not caring wasn’t right. Wasn’t her. She ignored it. All she saw was her dead daughter.

Their beautiful, innocent daughter with so much light in her smile and so much curiosity in every word. Jenny might’ve been born of a machine less than twelve hours ago, and even if she wasn’t genetically Rose’s, it didn’t matter. Jenny was their daughter.

End of story.

“Write songs in her name or epic poems,” she spat, even as that one part of her tried to rein in her vitriol. “Build a monument in her name or a shrine, I don’t care. But you can’t have our daughter.”

“Messaline will be a home where everyone is accepted. Where—” Cline scrambled for more and glanced to the Doctor as if he’d help—“where we live for peace. Not die for war.”

The Doctor’s hand tightened on hers but he remained quiet. He didn’t stop her. Didn’t do more than hold her and lean on her.

“That’s very lovely for you,” Rose mocked. “But our daughter died before any of you saw that path. The same one that’s been in front of you all along.”

The words kept coming, spewing forth with no end in sight. Furious and in pain and grieving for a woman she knew less than a day but who nonetheless was part of her, Rose angrily wiped at her cheeks again. She was not letting them bury Jenny here. She was not letting their daughter—born of a machine or not—spend one more minute on this planet.

“Rose,” Martha tried, a wealth of understanding and sorrow in that single word.

Martha took her hand, squeezed tight. She was dirty from her trek across the surface, but hadn’t said a word about leaving or showering or meeting them on the TARDIS. She stayed with them, sat with Rose for all this time and waited.

Her best friend, her sister. Rose tried to smile, but it felt more pleading than anything.

Then Martha swallowed hard and nodded. “All right. What do you want to do?”

“I’m not leaving her here.” She looked up at the Doctor, fresh tears spilling onto her cheeks.

His fingers, long and cool and so very gentle, brushed the moisture away with slow movements. His eyes, deep, deep brown and exhausted, so weary, met hers. They watched her from against his pale cheeks and starkly prominent freckles.

She didn’t need their bond to know he grieved. The deepness of it shocked even him. Cut far more deeply than anything in a long, long while. Rose reached up and cupped his face. There, in the underground temple on Messaline, sunlight shining through the windows, Rose brushed her thumb over his cheek, along his jaw.

His lip trembled and the Doctor sucked in a sharp breath. He didn’t nod, didn’t outwardly agree. But she knew. Rose _knew_ he didn’t want to leave Jenny here anymore than she. He would’ve; would’ve allowed the Messaline’s to honor her and hopefully heal from it.

But he didn’t want to.

“I don’t want to see this planet ever again,” she told him fiercely.

“You want to bury her on Earth?” Donna asked softly from where she sat next to Rose.

For the long hours Rose sat there, Donna kept watch over her; Rose appreciated the support, quiet though it was. Now Donna stood and closed the distance. She stopped by Martha, glanced down to Jenny. Back up again and surreptitiously wiped her own face.

“I really thought she’d regenerate.” Jack’s voice was thick and heavy as he stood beside the Doctor.

Rose nodded, weary and angry and so very tired. She thought so, too. Hoped. Desperately hoped Jenny regenerated. Cline slunk away and she felt bad for the kid, but she needed to do this. Wanted to be selfish for her daughter. Wanted Jenny Donna Tyler buried close to her family. On Earth.

“It’s been hours,” Martha said softly. “I know she was made from your tissue, Doctor, but maybe these machines didn’t sequence your Time Lord DNA properly. They were programmed for humans, yeah?”

“Maybe,” the Doctor agreed. He cleared his throat and sniffed harshly, looked up at the temple’s ceiling, toward the light still streaming in the windows. “Maybe.”

“Come on.” Jack stepped around them and gently shifted his arms beneath Jenny’s still body. “Let’s get her to the TARDIS.” He easily lifted her and settled her limp body securely against his chest. “We’ll take her home. Back to Earth. Let the family gather round.”

Rose nodded and sagged against the Doctor. He didn’t carry her through the underground city but it was a near thing. Legs weak, unbearably tired, Rose took his support. Their day was not over. Not by a lot.

They walked out of the temple and she lifted her head and stared straight ahead. Stood straighter. Took the Doctor’s support and offered what little she had in return. Isn’t that what she always told him? Marriage was a two way street—give and take, equal footing.

He wanted to run.

Wanted to leave Messaline behind and never speak of Jenny again. Rose refused to let him. Refused to shunt Jenny into a corner of memory and grief and leave her there.

It wasn’t a long walk back to the TARDIS; no one chased them and they didn’t have to hide from Cobb and his gun toting soldiers. Those same soldiers stood side-by-side with their Hath counterparts. Those who once pointed guns at them now stood quiet and respectful.

Several saluted as Jack carried Jenny.

Rose swallowed her tears. There’d be time later. Right now, she wanted off this planet. Wanted to wrap herself around the Doctor and let him cry. He might not. But for this, for his daughter, Rose felt he needed to.

Needed to let that bubble of emotion burst. Just this once.

Wearily, she waited as Donna unlocked the TARDIS door then walked up the ramp and sat in the jumpseat. She should probably take her position at the controls, but Rose hadn’t the energy. Jack looked round the console room and suddenly she realized the problem.

“Take her to the med bay,” the Doctor instructed.

His voice held no emotion, no inflection. Rose swallowed and slid, rather ungracefully, off the seat. She took one step out of the console room and toward the med bay. Stopped. Turned around and caught the Doctor’s hand.

_“My Doctor,”_ she whispered in Old High Gallifreyan. She mastered much of that language since they started their lessons. _“I’ll sit with our daughter.”_ Rose pulled him as close as her belly allowed and kissed him gently. _“I love you.”_

_“And I you, my hearts.”_ His words echoed musically over her, a brush along her skin, and Rose forced a smile. It fell flat, a bare ghost of her usual.

He caressed her cheek and nodded. “I’ll land us at Francine’s,” he whispered. The words were thick, bitter.

He looked at Martha, but Rose knew her friend nodded. Of course they’d go there. Much like her mum’s Estate flat, Francine’s home was their base on Earth. It comforted Rose in the same way that old flat had.

Silence followed her as she walked awkwardly down the short distance to the med bay, but the silence held only sorrow and love. Rose sniffed back more tears.

A quick stop in their bedroom to visit the loo and wash her face, and she returned to the med bay. Sitting in a chair that was the perfect height, Rose sighed and relaxed. She felt the gentle vibrations of the TARDIS as She dematerialized. The slight rocking was nothing like the frantic rumbling of earlier.

Circular paradox, the Doctor said—the TARDIS brought them to Jenny but arrived too soon and thereby created Jenny. The TARDIS had to know what She was doing. She always had, so Rose needed to believe She did so now.

Rose closed her eyes and breathed deeply, one hand resting on her belly the other once more clasping Jenny’s.

“Rose Jenny,” she said aloud. “Susan Jenny.”

Nodding, she opened her eyes and smiled sadly at the still body of her daughter. “We’ll name this one after you, Jenny. Tell her stories of her big sister, yeah? Her brave big sister who was going to show her the universe. You’ll never be forgotten.”

She swallowed hard. “I wish Mum could’ve met you. She’d have loved you. She’s strong, taught me to fight. Not with fists, but with my wits. Taught me to survive.”

Rose sighed and wiped away more tears. “I miss her so much. I think Mum’d have liked to meet her granddaughter. Francine is like her. Maybe not as understanding, but Mum had a second chance Francine never…plus, too, Martha had a lot more potential than I did when I met the Doctor. But she’s come round. Become family.”

The breath of gold energy stunned her.

Rose stopped. Stopped breathing, stopped thinking, stopped everything; for one brilliant moment everything around her and in her and through her _stopped_. Stared at that breath of gold energy. She knew what that breath meant. Golden energy dissipated into the TARDIS.

_Doctor!_

She didn’t know if she screamed for him out loud or only in her head. Couldn’t tear her gaze from Jenny, still not moving, but breathing—that single breath of gold energy. Suddenly he stood beside her, frantic and worried.

“Rose what’s wr—” the Doctor himself off.

Shock and awe and hope and fear shot through their bond. He stood absolutely still, preternaturally so. Rose tentatively brushed her fingers along his and he grabbed her hand. Squeezed hard.

“What’s wrong?” Jack demanded. 

Martha and Donna crowded in the med bay. For all the people suddenly beside her, the room was eerily silent.

Jenny’s eyes popped open.

“Oi!” Donna gasped. “What just happened?”

“Oh my God,” Martha whispered.

“Hello, Mum.”

“Jenny!” the Doctor said.

And for one stretched out moment, an eternity of surprise and disbelief, everything stilled. Then the Doctor and Martha jumped into action. They brought up scanners and diagnostics and ran them all.

“Oi,” Donna muttered again. “Best get out of the way.”

With one hand she dragged Rose, still staring in stunned silence, back from the bed and to a corner; with the other she dragged the chair. Positioning the chair for a perfect view, she physically moved Rose around it and forced her to sit.

“Donna,” Rose protested halfheartedly.

Finally she tore her gaze from Jenny—who laughed and grinned as the Doctor and Martha shot medical terms back and forth and called out scan results like the winners of a race—to her friend. Donna looked pale, Rose thought, wide-eyed and about as stunned as she felt.

“I’m not dreaming?” Rose asked quietly, afraid speaking too loud might break the bubble of happiness she currently lived in. “Jenny’s alive?”

Donna opened her mouth only to snap it closed. She looked over at the bed and nodded once, decisively. “Yes. I’d say so. Not sure how, mind, but yes.” She cocked her head to the side. “Unless we’re all having the same hallucination.”

She frowned and looked to Rose. “Is that possible?”

“Oh.” Rose sucked in a deep breath and blinked. She ignored Donna’s last question rhetorical though it probably was. After all, anything was possible in this universe.

The scene before them did not change—Jenny did not disappear, the med bay remained exactly the same, and every hope and wish and desire Rose longed for in the last hours seemed to come unbelievably true.

A scraping noise jerked her out of her thoughts and she looked to where Donna dragged another chair over. Jack disappeared, presumably to try and materialize the TARDIS at Francine’s without the help of anyone else. Rose felt vaguely guilty, and not a little nervous about Jack’s success. 

But she refused to move from this chair until the Doctor and Martha completed every test. Even if she did need the loo. Again.

“So.” Donna leaned back and folded her arms over her chest. “I sent Jack for tea and food.”

“Oh.” Rose nodded and tore her gaze from Jenny. “I thought he was landing the TARDIS.”

“Might be.” Donna shrugged. “But he has orders to bring you tea and food.”

Rose smiled warmly. “Thank you, Donna.” She rested her hands on her belly. “I am hungry; it’s been hours since we ate.” She sighed. “And I could definitely use a cuppa.”

She might also need to pee, but the hounds of hell couldn’t drag her from the med bay.

A great weight lifted off her chest and she breathed easily for the first time since the TARDIS took off. That still worried her, and she knew the Doctor worried about it, too. She thought back to all the places they traveled to, but couldn’t think of another time the TARDIS took off on Her own.

Why would the TARDIS _create_ a circular paradox?

The wild shaking Rose was used to—after all, it was only after the four of them piloted the TARDIS that She regained some semblance of stability in flight. But to just dematerialize like She had?

Rose pushed that to the back of her mind. After Jenny’s tests were complete and after she spoke to the Doctor, they’d figure it out. Right now, she reached over and grabbed Donna’s hand.

“Thank you for so many things,” she whispered. “You kept your head there. You saw things none of us did and helped bring peace to them.”

Donna’s entire face softened. “It was nothing. Just lucky.”

“Pft,” Rose scoffed. “It was everything. Without you, we wouldn’t know about the start of the war. Might not’ve been able to stop it, either. That was you, Donna. That was all you.”

“Na.” Donna shook her head and the thickness of disbelief in her voice broke Rose’s heart.

“Oh yes,” Rose said softly. She leaned her head on Donna’s shoulder. “That was all you, you deserve all the credit. You saved that world, Donna Noble. You saved all of us.”

Rose felt Donna shake her head in disagreement. She pulled back and glared. “Don’t argue with the pregnant woman!”

Donna laughed and Rose ginned widely with her. But the other woman’s eyes still showed disbelief and her shoulders tensed with skepticism.

“Trust me on this.” She grinned a little at the line, missed Pete and her mum even more. “I never got my A-Levels,” Rose confessed. “Dropped out of school at sixteen.”

“But you’re so brilliant!” Donna protested, incredulous now.

“You are, too,” Rose insisted.

Donna rolled her eyes.

“Sure, I went back to school in…” she swallowed hard. “In the other world, but I had practical real-universe saving experience. School isn’t everything, Donna. The Doctor taught me that.”

Rose smiled, happiness and heartbreak once more living side-by-side in her heart. But she separated the constant ache of missing her mum and Mickey, Pete and Tony. If there was one thing Jackie’s second chance made Rose see, it was to live in the moment.

“Besides,” she continued. “Look at all that with the Sontarans and ATMOS. You were the one who noticed none of those workers took a sick day. You were the one to think of looking at their files. And today? You figured out what those numbers meant.”

“You would’ve,” Donna insisted. “You and the Doctor would’ve figured it out and saved the day. Just like you always do.”

“Donna.” Rose sighed and tried a different tract. “The Doctor didn’t pass all his exams, either.” She waited a beat. “And he stole the TARDIS because he failed his driver’s test.”

“I don’t buy it,” Donna protested. “Besides, he’s the Doctor. He’s seen so much, done so much. He knows things, just knows them.”

Hardheaded one, wasn’t she. Rose scowled.

She looked over to where the Doctor danced around medical machines with Martha. The skeptical apprehensiveness that wound through his overall joy didn’t fool her. He was thrilled. He merely wanted to solve this mystery. And he did so love a good mystery.

“How did you find the Doctor?” Rose asked instead.

“What?” Donna demanded.

“How many people do you think search for the Doctor? How many want to meet him, want to know him?” Rose stopped and made sure Donna looked at her. “Or who he helped and want to see him or meet him again? How many people, do you think, want to travel with him?”

Donna blinked but remained quiet. Rose nodded, satisfied with the other woman’s attention.

“And you found him. How?”

Donna licked her lips. “I—I read up on strange things,” she said slowly. Haltingly. “I looked at conspiracies and at things that made no sense. Even for Earth.”

“Exactly!” Rose exclaimed. “You searched, did research. You didn’t just hope or maybe click on a couple stories online and read about it. You didn’t talk about it. _You did._ Went out and looked into things. Things like the Adipose.”

Slowly, Donna nodded. “Yeah,” she said, drawing out the word. “Yes.” She cleared her throat. “I still don’t understand what happened to their planet.”

Rose didn’t get into that. She had her own theories, and the Doctor was looking into the disappearing planets, but right now wasn’t for that. It was for Donna.

“See?” Rose nodded decisively. “Brilliant. What else? What else did you do? Others have researched him.”

Elton came to mind, and… oh, what was his name. The first person she asked about the Doctor? Rose couldn’t remember now, and wondered what happened to him and his obsessive search. She didn’t think he ever met the Doctor. But Donna did.

Why? Why Donna? Coincidence? There were an awful lot of those going around… her, Jack, and now Donna.

Eventually, Donna’s eyes softened, her shoulders eased. Reluctantly, the movement stiff and stilted, she nodded.

“Maybe,” she allowed. “Maybe you’re right.” She sat quiet for several minutes then said softly, “I met a man, an old man, who knew you.”

“Me?” Rose jerked back then shrugged. “We meet a lot of people,” she admitted. “All out of order, no doubt.”

“His name was Tom. Mr. Tom, they called him. These kids round some Estate.”

Rose froze. “Which Estate?” The words sounded distant and thick on her tongue.

Donna looked at her sharply. “I don’t know. Does it matter?”

Slowly, the movement heavy, Rose shook her head. “No.” She licked her lips. “I suppose not.” She swallowed hard and asked, “Who was this Tom?”

Donna shrugged, but her smile was affectionate and reminiscent. “Some man who spent his life looking for you and the Doctor again, apparently. You helped him once and he spent his life looking out for weird alien stuff.”

Tom, Tom, sounded familiar but Rose met a lot of people. And Tom wasn’t exactly an uncommon name. She wondered which Doctor, too…

“Anyway,” Donna said. “He had a bunch of Estate kids looking for alien stuff and trying to stop it before anything bad happened. Reminded me of the Baker Street Irregulars from Sherlock Holmes.”

“Yeah?” Rose asked, purposely lightning her tone. “They find anything?”

“Dunno. But they were faithful to finding the Doctor and carrying on in your—and his—name. Doing the right thing, not hurting anyone, and never carrying a gun.” She smiled slightly then frowned, hard. “Do you know you’re dead on Earth?”

“Oh. Yeah. Knew that.” It still hurt to remember, their separation. Being an entire universe away from the Doctor. Then being back here and a universe from her family. “The Doctor saw to it when mum and I were trapped in the other world.”

Rose paused then dragged the conversation back on track. To Donna and her brilliance. She was curious as to who Mr. Tom was, but pushed it aside. Right now was all about bolstering Donna’s esteem.

She wanted to say how she understood. How her own mum hadn’t believed there was anything more than Powell Estate. How it took traveling and expanding her horizons to make her see her own possibilities. To push for more.

Possibilities that had always been there but hadn’t the opportunity to spread. To fly, for an overly romantic way of putting it.

Instead Rose kissed Donna’s cheek and returned her head to her shoulder. They sat in silence for a while. Despite the noise of the trio by the bed, they sat in the silence of their own bubble and Rose let the day’s events catch up with her.

“What’s regeneration?” Donna asked eventually.

“Ah…” Rose hedged then sighed. “Oh, boy.”

Right then Jack entered with an overloaded tea tray and she looked up at him gratefully. He set it on a nearby bed and pulled up a third chair. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he handed her a mug of steaming tea.

“Drink,” he ordered. He watched her as she sipped the tea then asked, “Any word from our Dynamic Medical Duo?”

“No.” Rose smiled affectionately at the nickname and at the duo currently studying readouts.

Her eyes drifted back to Jenny. A very alive Jenny. The other woman met her gaze and grinned happily, waved slightly. Rose smiled back and lifted her hand in return.

Her heart soared and she let loose the laugh that wanted to break free. Rose stroked one hand over her belly. She didn’t know if her unborn daughter heard her, the Doctor said her telepathy wouldn’t develop until puberty, but she liked to try.

_That’s Jenny. That’s your big sister, little one._

Rose hoped her baby understood her, the emotion, if not understood each one of the words Rose mentally projected. The baby moved restlessly and though Rose grimaced at the jabbing of knees and elbows, she took it as a sign her daughter couldn’t wait to meet her big sister.

And a sign she really, desperately, needed to pee. In a minute.

“Donna wants to know about regeneration,” Rose said and sipped her tea.

“Oh.” Jack shrugged. “All right then. Rose can tell you.”

He grinned, but it was wide and happy and she laughed. Suddenly, all was right in the universe.

********  
“I’m sorry,” Rose whispered.

They stood in the TARDIS gardens. The generated sun shone high overhead, a warmth on her face Rose needed. It chased away the numbness and grief from hours by Jenny’s side. Colors and scents of a variety of flowers surrounded them. Normally it soothed her, this little oasis she and the Doctor nurtured from the ruins left by the Time War.

Today, it was a haven. A place for her and the Doctor to talk privately. Rose didn’t want to do it in their bedroom, though she had no real reason for that.

The Doctor turned in surprise, eyebrows high on his forehead, eyes wide. He blinked then and closed the distance between them. She backed up until she stood beneath a silver-leaved tree native to Gallifrey, one of the only flora to survive the war.

It offered minimal shade in the sunlight, generated or not, which was suddenly very hot on her sensitive skin. Rose debated stripping— unexpectedly, despite her coldness a moment ago, her clothing chafed and she was hot and everything _hurt_.

She did not strip. She did not move.

“For what?” he asked, surprised. “What do you have to be sorry for, Rose?”

He helped her sit, settled her comfortably against his chest. His arms wrapped around her and pulled her tight against his chest. His lips pressed to her temple and the touch flared through her.

Hope and love and new paths and all of it overwhelmed him. It shuddered through him and into her and Rose took it into herself. She searched his feelings for the violation the Doctor felt when those soldiers forced him into the machine and forcibly created their daughter.

It faded, more like he buried it, no more than a brief memory of how Jenny came to be. She wondered if she would’ve been so forgiving had it happened to her. If it happened via machine, yes. She accepted Jenny with everything in her.

Still, Rose stood by what she screamed at Cline. _No more._

“I’m not sorry I insisted we take Jenny’s body with us.” Rose laughed faintly. “I’m sorry I made you…” she signed and shook her head. “I’m sorry because I know you don’t like saying goodbye. That death…”

“Rose.” He stopped, swallowed hard. “I’ve run my entire life. I never say goodbye, I never look back.”

She felt him hesitate, falter and tightened her hold around his hands.

“If we hadn’t run into Sarah at that school, I never would’ve seen her again. If you hadn’t exchanged numbers, I wouldn’t have ever spoken to her again even after that.”

He stopped and released a shuddering breath. Rose turned in his arms, twisted as far as she could, and looked up at him. The Doctor looked off in their gardens, eyes distant but his lips pulled in a slight smile.

The fingers of one hand slipped up her arm, caressed her marriage tattoo though she kept it hidden save when they were alone. The touch drew her in, flared between them. More than sexual, more than arousal.

It was the simplest of touches meant to convey so much. Need and desire, hope and love, trust and truth.

“If you hadn’t returned, I’m not sure where I’d be.” The Doctor whispered the words as if in a confessional. A combination of reluctant admittance and expectant revelation. “If I’d travel only with Martha or alone. I’m not sure of anything, really. Would I have talked to Jo or Liz or Alistair again?”

He shrugged and focused on her, eyes deep and brown and old. So very ancient and alien and haunted as he looked at her. He once told her he was nine hundred (give or take—she thought more, but had no solid proof) but the Time War was on every dimension and a day, a month, a year fighting there was equal to how many outside the lock?

Rose turned around, reached back and cupped the back of his head. Guided him so his chin rested on her shoulder and his lips brushed the side of her neck. He shuddered and by increments relaxed. Her spine molded to his chest until he wrapped around her, cool and comforting.

“I would’ve left Jenny’s body on Messaline.” He pressed his lips in a lingering kiss to her neck. “And we’d never know she lived. I’d have left her and not known our daughter regenerated. So thank you, my hearts.”

“For crying and berating that poor kid?” Rose shook her head. “I do feel bad about that.”

“We can go back, apologize.”

Rose shuddered. “No thanks. I was serious. I never want to see that planet again.” She paused. “I was also serious when I said what they did to you was a violation.”

His lips brushed over her neck, pressed gently to the hollow beneath her jaw. “I know. It was,” he admitted, drawing the words out slowly. “But Jenny…”

Rose felt him shake his head. But she knew. Jenny was theirs, no matter how she came into this universe.

“Once we all get some sleep,” he continued, changing the subject with typical ease, “I’ll take us to Francine’s.” He hesitated again. “Were you serious? Do you want to stop traveling until the baby’s born?”

“Do I want to?” Rose shook her head. She allowed him this change in subject—knew if it were her she’d not want to talk about it. “Do I think I need to?” She shrugged. “I don’t want to endanger me, the baby, or anyone else because I can’t run as fast as I used to.”

“It’s fine,” the Doctor said quickly. Honestly. “More than fine.”

His hands tightened around her belly and he pulled her closer. He didn’t say anything for long, long minutes, but Rose knew it was because he gathered his thoughts. She felt his earlier fear graze along her skin, pinpricks of alarm.

With everything in her, she tried to sooth him. Sent mental waves of love and family, rubbed his hands over her belly, tilted her head to kiss his cheek. Any touch, any caress that reminded him she was there, they were there, and she loved him.

Forever.

“I was terrified for you,” he admitted quietly.

Everything in him tightened around her. Gathered her further into him. Safe. Whole. His.

“When we had to run and you couldn’t—” his voice broke over the word, shattered with his terror for her. “I was so afraid you’d hurt yourself or be hurt because the TARDIS landed us there and you weren’t able to protect yourself.”

His breath caught. “ _I_ wasn’t able to protect you.”

Rose lifted his left hand, pressed a kiss to the ring he wore there. The symbol he wore to honor her human traditions.

“Let’s park at Francine’s,” she agreed. “It’s only a couple months.” She moved her shoulders, “Well, give or take. And I’m sure UNIT will be thrilled to have you at their beck and call.”

He sighed but she felt his lips curl against her skin. Felt the tension still coiling in him ease a little more. The discordance along their bond lessen.

“And I can help Jack track down the remnants of Torchwood. See if the rumors Harriet told us are true.”

Rose shuddered at the mention of Torchwood but nodded. “We can work on our spa proposal for UNIT.”

He trailed his lips down her throat, hands cupping her breasts. She shivered in his arms and arched her neck, hummed in the back of her throat. Her hands covered his and Rose sighed his name.

“Make love in our lagoon.” His words whispered along her skin and she whimpered in anticipation.

“I’d like that. Can I sleep there, too?” She tried to joke but her voice sounded husky and shameless. “It’s near impossible to find a comfortable position to sleep anymore.”

“And we can have our baby surrounded by our family.”

Rose stilled and blinked up at him. He never really said that before, never acknowledged or claimed or believed they had a family that wasn’t only them. Not aloud at least.

“Doctor.” The word felt heavy on her tongue, thick with all the love and hope and adoration she felt for this man.

“They are our family, yes?” The words painted a vivid picture against her skin. A yearning she always sensed but never consciously acknowledged in case he ran.

“And we have to introduce Jenny to them all.” He stopped and cleared his throat. “Show her your world, your culture.”

“I love you.”

It sounded weak and inadequate given what he just said, but held all she felt for this man, her lover, her love. The way he continued to surprise her. The way he read her heart.

“I love you, too, my hearts.” He kissed her, slow and deep, tongue sweeping along hers, every ounce of love and affection and need poured into something so simple as a kiss. “More than I think you know.”

“I know,” she sighed, cupped his cheek.

“Come on,” she said and nodded. “Let’s eat. This baby’s starving and so am I. Let’s find Jenny and show her around. Let’s get this new life of ours started.”

“Onto the next adventure!”

He grinned goofily at her and jumped up. He reached down and helped her off the ground, lips on hers again. Pressed her to the tree and lazily explored her mouth. Rose sighed and wound her arms around his neck, pulled him close. But not nearly as close as she wanted.

“We can start Jenny’s Gallifreyan lessons tomorrow.” He took her hand and hopped a little in excitement as he led her from the private corner of their gardens and back to the main living area.

“Mind, it won’t be as fun as your lessons.” He waggled his eyebrows and she laughed, giddy at this turn their lives had taken. “But I’m sure it’ll be just fine. I should get the primers out,” he added as they walked. “Make it a real lesson; get ready for when this little one starts learning.”

“I think you have time,” Rose sighed, free hand on her stomach.

“Naa, never too early!” He grinned happily over his shoulder, all exuberance and delight. “Did I ever tell you about my first test, Rose?”

They meandered along the hallways, the Doctor regaling her with his early academy days and Rose happy to listen. She leaned her head on his shoulder, closed her eyes for a brief moment. This was their life. This was their happiness. This was their family.

And it was fantastic.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The meaning of family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! I appreciate the kudos and comments and the simple fact you've read my story. I have a little Interlude that's related to this story appropriately titled: _Family Interlude_. Then off to the next story in the series, Turn Left. If you think you know what that means...you're wrong. Well, wrong-ish. I promise angst, love, Ten/Rose hot monkey sex, and timey-wimey stuff!

“Ready?” Rose asked.

Jenny nodded with the same enthusiasm she displayed in everything. “Meeting the family, sure.” She paused, frowned. “Aunt Martha’s family. Is her family yours, too? Are you sisters? Isn’t that what _aunt_ means?”

Rose shook her head. “No, well, yes.” She stopped, tilted her head in the same way she noticed Jenny did “Martha’s not my genetic sister but she is my sister, my best friend. Her family is now our family, yes. But no. They’re not the family I was born into.”

“What about yours?”

Rose swallowed. Then swallowed again. But the lump in her throat refused to dislodge. They sat in the gardens, she and Jenny. Rose wanted a private minute before they exited and Jenny met everyone. There were a lot of people and it could seem daunting.

Jenny wasn’t daunted. Jenny was excited. And confused.

All right, yes. Rose understood that. But it hurt to talk about them. Mum and Mickey and Pete and Tony. Even Jake and the people at Torchwood she knew. Not well, not even outside work. But she worked closely with them and they knew things about her no one else in that world even suspected.

(Please let them be safe. Please let Pete’s position protect them. And please, please let them be happy.)

“My mum…Jackie.” Rose’s fingers found her earing and she twisted it. “A few years ago,” she started again, “I traveled with the Doctor but there was a war. My mum and I were trapped across the Void in another universe. The Doctor couldn’t open the walls. We were trapped there.”

Rose took a deep breath and let the sun warm her face. Chase the chill from her fingers. Her hand found her pendant and stroked the heavy stone. Let the warmth remind her of all she gained—family and friends—and all she lost.

“Martha’s family became mine. Francine like my mum. Tish and Shonara my friends.”

“And Aunt Martha is your sister?” Jenny asked, that same curiosity in her tone. No judgement, just the question.

“Yes.” Rose said without hesitation.

“And Aunt Donna?”

Rose licked her lips. She was not going to lie to Jenny but she also didn’t want to hurt Donna’s feelings. Even if the redhead wasn’t here.

“Donna is a brilliant friend and a wonderful woman. We named you after her, yeah?” Rose smiled, fingers sliding from her pendant to Jenny’s hand. “I’ve simply known Martha longer. We’ve been through a lot together. Donna is a close friend. The best.”

“Are all families like this?” Jenny asked.

“What do you mean?”

She frowned. “We didn’t have families,” Jenny said quietly. “We were created in generations, but I never knew anyone else in my generation. I think they were like units more than families.”

“I…I don’t know anything about what they considered families,” Rose admitted.

“Dad said a family is a group of people related to each other. Time Lords were bound by blood and house.”

Rose nodded. And wondered how the Doctor managed to incorporate a Time Lord lesson in a day. She cleared her throat and tried to describe family the way she meant it. The way the word evolved for her over the last several years.

“A family is a group of individuals who…” she blew out a frustrated breath. “ _Our_ family is what we say. Donna, Jack and Martha, Francine and Tish and Shonara and Leo and little Keisha. Clive and Sarah Jane. They’re our family.”

“So it’s like our generation units,” Jenny said, head tilted, eyes distant. “People who are together through a common bond.”

“Yes.” Rose nodded, somewhat satisfied with the analogy. “But more than those units, family care for each other. Look out for each other.”

The memory of Jenny stepping in front of her when Cobb raised his gun still sent ice through her veins. Rose doubted that fear would ever lessen. She licked her lips, and her hands methodically stroked her belly.

“Family…”

“Family is what you want it to be,” Martha said.

Rose looked up to see she and Donna enter the gardens. They looked ready for Earth, Martha in her UNIT gear, not quite a uniform but not street clothes either. Black protective clothing that accentuated her curves. She looked good. And Donna wore non-running shoes. She should probably warn Donna about Earth and alien invasions and the Doctor. Sneakers were a must.

“True,” Rose agreed.

“And they stick together,” Donna added.

“Also true,” Rose said.

Jenny nodded. “Great! So when do we meet the rest of the family?”

 ********  
“How long were you gone?” Francine demanded when he proudly introduced Jenny.

To be fair, he might’ve started less with _This is our daughter, Jenny_ , and more with _Francine the most incredible thing happened just yesterday._

Might’ve saved him the slap.

As it was, the Doctor grumpily held his cheek while Jack barely held in his laughter.

“No, mum,” Martha rushed in. “It’s not like that. Jenny is…well, she’s the Doctor and Rose’s, but she was created from a machine on this planet. She’s only a day and a half old.”

Francine, who had been eying Rose as if she wondered what number pregnancy Rose was on, snapped her attention back to Jenny. Her dark eyes assessed his daughter, flicked between him and Rose.

“Your daughter?” Francine asked Rose.

Sure, _she_ didn’t get slapped. And she got the soft, understanding voice. Pft. Mothers sticking together and all that rubbish.

Rose’s gentle laugh trickled over their bond. Sheepish, the Doctor tugged his ear.

“Our daughter,” Rose confirmed.

Francine sent him one last glare. He merely sighed. More importantly, she smiled at Jenny and embraced her. “Welcome to the family, Jenny.”

Jenny beamed at the older woman and Francine softened even more. The Doctor had watched Francine with Keisha and though she was a no-nonsense grandmother, she was also patient and understanding.

“Come on,” Francine said in that soft grandmotherly voice the Doctor often heard her use with Keisha. “Let’s meet the rest of the family. We’re about to sit down to Sunday dinner.” She shot him another look. “You’re late.”

The Doctor sputtered. “We were a little busy!” he reminded her.

Francine, as usual, ignored him. She turned to Martha and asked, “Explain this machine to me.” But she didn’t release Jenny’s hand and when she introduced his daughter to Leo and Shonara, she very clearly said, “This is my granddaughter, Jenny.”

The Doctor’s hearts flipped in his chest. Rooted to the spot, he stared after them. Jack joined Martha and Donna, looking a little out of place, trailed along. Jack stopped, turned, and tugged Donna next to him as he injected bits about blue-eyed Doctors.

“Hey.” Rose took his hand and he tore his gaze from Francine and Jenny. His wife looked up at him with concern, her brandy eyes soft.

“This is our family.”

“I know.” She tilted her head to the side and stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “And it’s Sunday dinner with the family.”

He swallowed hard. It all hit him at once. The family, the dinners. Promising Rose to stay on Earth for the next couple months. Hand tightening around hers, he reached deep, deep within him. Reached for that restlessness, that impatient urge to _run_.

He couldn’t find it.

“Do you regret it?” Rose asked in barely a whisper. “Do you regret putting down roots on Earth?”

Slowly he shook his head. “No.” The Doctor ran a hand through his hair. “Just hit me, you know? This is the family we created.”

He shook his head and sniffed. “I thought Jackie and Mickey were it, you know. They were a part of you and you were a part of me, so they were family. Christmas dinners and silly hats.”

The Doctor looked down at her, brushed his thumb under her eye though no tears fell. Rose swallowed hard and nodded. He knew she missed them with an ache that never really went away. But right then all she did was lean into his touch and wait.

“But this is our family, eh? Grandma Francine and Uncle Jack.” He shuddered but they both knew it was staged.

“This is our life, Doctor,” Rose reminded him. Took his hand and placed it on the swollen mound of her belly. “And it’s fantastic.”

He grinned happily. “It really is.”

“Aunt Rose?” Little Keisha stood before them, her big brown eyes wide as she looked between Rose and the Doctor. “Is Jenny the baby from your belly?”

Rose started to bend down but stopped herself with a grimace. The Doctor swept in and lifted Keisha high over his head before settling her on his hip.

“No, Keisha. She’s not. Jenny,” Rose sighed.

But she instilled in him a sense of truth when it came to explaining things to their children. Apparently, from the emotions coming across their bond, she decided that same truth applied to Keisha.

“Jenny grew from a machine. But she’s still our daughter. She’s just…” Rose shrugged helplessly. “Grown.”

“She’s not the baby now?” Keisha asked. Her eyes narrowed in concentration. “She’s not the baby but bigger? A growed up?”

The Doctor stopped and looked at the little girl. “Why do you say that, Keisha?”

She shrugged and buried her face in the Doctor’s shoulder. Mumbled something against his jacket even his advanced hearing couldn’t make out. When she grew shy around him, he didn’t know. Or maybe it was the subject matter.

“Keisha,” he said gently. “What makes you think Jenny is the baby is Aunt Rose’s belly?”

But Keisha merely shrugged. “You drive-ed in time. Jenny played with me.”

The two sentences, seeming unconnected, caught his attention. His entire focus narrowed in on Keisha but the Doctor gentled his voice further. “When was this?” he asked slowly. “When did Jenny play with you?”

“When the bad man took-ed over. When he hurt-ed you.” Her dark expressive eyes shone with tears now and she trembled.

Rose rubbed her back and stroked her hair. The conversation in the other room grew louder, all white noise and sound. The Doctor narrowed his senses on Keisha, tried to tune into what she saw.

A Time Ripple. Dear God, somehow this little girl was caught in a Ripple. He pressed his lips to her forehead. Tried to soothe her. He didn’t know how to take the memory away without doing irreparable damage to the girl’s mind, but he could ease her fears.

“Jenny played with you?” he asked in a soft, low voice. “She made you happy?”

“She hid me and mommy when the soldiers looked-ed for us. When they looked-ed for Auntie Martha.” She stopped and said in an even quieter voice, oddly proud for the obvious fear he felt from her. “She helped-ed you stop the bad man. Stopped-ed the fires.”

Cold to his very core, his time sense reeling, the Doctor smiled reassuringly at Keisha. He wanted to ask more about what she saw, what sort of world she saw, who the bad man was. But he kept his questions to himself. Keisha was too young to properly deal with a Time Ripple.

Pressing his fingers lightly to her temple, he offered her what comfort he could. “That’s because she’s your sister,” he whispered and withdrew his hand. “Just like this baby will be your sister.”

Keisha looked down at Rose’s belly. Slowly, she nodded. The Doctor wanted to take the memories away, desperately wanted to, but didn’t want to traumatize her developing brain.

“Of course Auntie Martha helped,” Rose whispered, still stroking Keisha’s hair. “She’s very brave.”

Keisha nodded solemnly.

“Now then,” the Doctor said and swung Keisha high in the air before setting her on the ground. “Let’s find Jenny, eh? And you can show her all your toys. She may look grown up, but she’s only a day old.”

Eyes once more huge, Keisha’s head whipped around. Her head cocked and her little hands rested disbelievingly on her hips. “Don’t tease, Uncle Doctor.” She stamped her foot. “It’s _rude_.”

Rose snickered and took the Doctor’s hand in one of hers, Keisha’s with the other. “He’s not teasing, Keisha. Jenny might look big, but she doesn’t know anything about playing.”

Keisha looked up at Rose with wide eyes then ran into the living room where Jenny now laughed with Tish and Martha. Rose pulled him to a stop in the archway.

“I don’t know,” he said in answer to her unspoken question. He ran a hand over his face, mind racing, but still came up with the same thing. “Poor Keisha got caught in a Time Ripple.”

“Who’s this man she saw?” Rose whispered. “The one who burned the world.”

The Doctor shook his head. “I don’t know.” He sighed. “I don’t know we’ll ever know.”

Jenny looked up just then and grinned. She beckoned them over. With one final squeeze to Rose’s hand he nudged her into the room. But his gaze continued to drift to Keisha. She studied Jenny with all the seriousness of a child and, as children do, climbed onto Jenny’s lap and proceeded to show her her dolls.

“They don’t have UNIT dolls,” Keisha confided. “I want Auntie Martha and Uncle Jack. But they don’t make-ed one. So I pretend-ed Barbie is Auntie Martha.”

“Why is she naked?” Jenny asked.

The Doctor chocked and automatically glared at Jack. He snickered and Martha looked in wide-eyed horror at her niece.

“They don’t make-ed uniforms,” Keisha said reasonably. “They’re not very nice.”

The group laughed and Rose tugged him into the room. She needed to sit, he knew. Not that she’d be comfortable for longer than a few minutes, but until they returned to the TARDIS, he’d do his best to ease her aches.

No, the chaos of a family dinner wasn’t the time to delve into timelines.

 ********  
“There are a few rules,” the Doctor said two days after Jenny’s miraculous regeneration.

They parked outside Francine’s. It continually amazed the Doctor how alike Francine and Jackie were. And if he didn’t think it was a bad omen for him, he’d pay good money to see them together.

Speaking of, he needed to contact Malcolm Taylor again, see if the good scientist found any lovely human twists in the data the Doctor sent. See if he found a way to use his self-named ‘Malcolms’ to create a wormhole to contact the other universe.

“Rules?” Jenny asked.

She sat in the jumpseat by Rose, completely still but vibrating with energy. They promised her one trip as a family before stopping for the remainder of Rose’s pregnancy. Donna won the coin toss and they were off to see Agatha Christie.

“For traveling on the TARDIS,” the Doctor clarified. “The first rule of travel is no wandering off.”

Jack snorted. The Doctor turned to glare at his friend.

“I thought the first rule was Hands off the Blonde.”

He narrowed his eyes even more and pointed a finger, jabbing it into the air. “For you, Captain. It still is. It always will be.”

Jack snickered, Martha laughed outright, and Rose joined in. Donna looked confused, as she often did when they spoke of one of their family jokes. But she was less closed off when it came to them—the Doctor knew it had something to do with Martha and Rose.

He certainly hadn’t done much to bring her out of her shell, but Rose. Rose was so good when it came to things like that. Saw things he didn’t.

“No wandering off,” the Doctor repeated.

“Unless it’s to find a clue,” Rose injected. She grinned at him, her tongue peeking along the corner of her mouth.

What was he saying?

“Or unless,” Martha said and he snapped back to the present. “It’s to find the Doctor.”

“Do you often wander off, Dad?”

The Doctor did not appreciate the howling laughter that echoed along the TARDIS console. He cleared his throat. Loudly.

“Yes, yes, very funny. Now, are we ready?” He yanked a lever and everyone jumped to their positions.

Rose did not join in. Securely strapped in as she promised, that fact eased the pulling tension around his hearts. Jenny stayed next to her and held her hand. So innocent, so unassuming, but the sight spread warmth through him.

“Can you teach me how to pilot the TARDIS?” Jenny asked as they dematerialized.

“Oh yes,” he promised. “I’ll teach you everything.”

He looked from his daughter to her mother. His smile softened and he stretched out their bond, deliberately wrapped it around her.

 _Everything_ , he promised along the shining, woven colors of their connection. 

Rose smiled back, soft and gentle and so understanding. She nodded, hand on her belly, and returned the promise along their bond.

Then they were materializing and they were off to see Dame Agatha.

 ********  
“Let’s go to that outdoor market Francine told us about,” Rose said as the Doctor tied her sneakers.

Her belly was far too big for her to reach down and frankly she liked seeing him on his knees in front of her. Gave her all sorts of ideas. But Martha promised breakfast and she was starving. The Doctor finished tying her sneakers and stood, offering his hand.

With considerably less grace, Rose stood (slide, hopped, wobbled) off the bench at the foot of their bed. Winston watched her from the cushion, head tilted to one side as if pregnant humans were the most fascinating creature he ever witnessed.

She did not stick her tongue out at her cat.  
She didn’t.  
Really.

Reluctantly releasing the Doctor’s hand, Rose smoothed her own down her dress. The long-sleeved cotton material stopped mid-thigh. Underneath the loose black trousers, she wore the Doctor’s specially woven compression tights.

The black running sneakers didn’t exactly go with the outfit, but were far more practical for life with the Doctor. Even on Earth. And comfortable, God, they were comfortable.

The deep red of the dress made her feel sexy despite the large protrusion of her belly. 

Not despite. Never that.

Her hands cupped her bump, well they flattened over the expansive largeness of it. No, she couldn’t feel anything else _but_ sexy. Not when the Doctor watched her with that hungry look in his eyes or the constant buzz of arousal that hummed along their bond.

Not when she knew their child grew within her. When she knew she was responsible for a new life. A new species. Their daughter’s. Daughters—now they had Jenny as well.

“We can stay in,” the Doctor said, mouth brushing along her jaw. His fingers slid up her arms, around her shoulders. Light brushes on the nape of her neck that had shivers of pure delight racing down her spine.

“Walk in our own gardens. Make love in the lagoon.”

“Hmm,” Rose agreed, head tilting to the side to allow him greater access. “Yes.” Her head jerked up. “No.”

The Doctor pouted and she didn’t bother resisting the urge to nip at his lip. It was so unfair he had such expressive lips, such kissable lips. Well, maybe not unfair. After all, she did get to kiss them on a very regular basis. Feel them glide along her body. Taste them every single day whenever she wanted.

“No?” he repeated. And proceeded to kiss her jaw, light touches that sent sparks of need dancing along her skin.

“I need more to wear than this dress,” Rose insisted. Weakly. Her hands may also have come up to hold his head in place as he nipped at the sensitive joint between neck and shoulder.

“You have four dresses like that in different colors,” he said against her skin. His breath was cool, his words low and husky.

“I know, but I’m tired of wearing the same four things all the time.”

“I don’t mind if you walk around naked.”

The Doctor pulled back and wagged his eyebrows. Rose laughed and caught his face in her hands.

“You goof,” she said and pressed her lips to his. “Come on, I’m starved and so is your daughter. We want Martha’s breakfast.”

At the mention of _daughter_ , the Doctor brightened and took her hand.

For all her research into names, and insisting each of their children didn’t have to be girls, she only thought of female names. Which the Doctor loved. Only in the moment before Martha announced the gender did Rose wonder if they’d been too hasty.

But no, the Doctor had been right—it was a girl. Rose still thought he manipulated his Time Lord Sperm into coding a girl.

He denied it.  
She only half believed him.

“How are you feeling?” Donna asked the second they walked into the kitchen.

Two piles of papers lay stacked neatly before her. Rose gave them a cursory look then gratefully sat on the comfortable, high-backed chair the TARIS insisted she use. Rose never argued with the ship.

“Big,” she sighed.

The Doctor went to the fridge to pour her a glass of pomegranate juice then back to the counter to mix her vitamin smoothie. Not long now, weeks at most, until she gave birth. Rose had never wanted anything to come faster.

“You look fantastic,” Donna insisted and shoved her stacks to the side of the table. “Seriously, I always thought that whole pregnancy glow was a bunch of rubbish, but Rose you’re glowing.”

Rose laughed and smiled up at the Doctor when he set the glass before her. His lips brushed her temple before he moved back to the counter.

“Thanks. I’m either completely drained or so energized I wonder why I can’t feel like that all the time.” She drained her glass then winced.

Damn. Now they’d have to stop two dozen times in the market for her to pee. For all the miracles of the human body, all its adaptations, having a fetus sit on the mother’s bladder was a big design flaw.

“Well I didn’t think we’d see you today,” Donna said with a sly look.

Rose blushed but asked innocently, “Oh? Why not?”

Donna snickered and Rose quickly changed the subject. “What are you writing?”

“We were making a list of other famous people we wanted to see,” Martha said.

Rose looked over her shoulder to where the Doctor, Martha, and Jack moved seamlessly around the counters. “Who did you come up with?” she asked the group in general. Then frowned. “Where’s Jenny?”

“Studying,” Jack said and jerked his head in the general direction of where the library sat in relation to the kitchens.

“Ah. That’s your fault,” she told the Doctor and glared. “She’s done nothing but study since you told her Time Lords have their own language.”

“We do!” he yelped. Tugging his ear he admitted, “I may have been a…little, just a tad, a smidgen really, enthusiastic shall we say? Over teaching her.”

Rose sighed and pushed herself out of the chair.

“Where are you going?” the Doctor demanded. 

In three steps, long before Rose moved more than to stand and regain her balance, he stood by her, hands on her shoulders steadying her. His look alternated between panic and love and joy and more panic.

“Going to get Jenny,” she stated as if it were obvious. Which it was, far as she was concerned.

“I’ll get her,” Jack volunteered. 

Jack nodded to Rose and disappeared down the hallway. Satisfied, Rose looked to the Doctor. He sighed and gently helped her sit back in the chair.

“Please sit, Rose,” he whispered. “Please.”

She reached up and cupped his cheek, ran her thumb along his jaw. “I’m fine, Doctor. I’m all right, promise.”

He pressed his lips to her forehead and nodded.

“ _I_ wanted to meet Good Queen Bess,” Donna said deliberately. Rose looked to her as the Doctor returned to the counter and her drink. “But apparently the Doctor and Martha beat me to it.”

“I told you,” Martha said as she continued to flip pancakes.

Cooking batter filled the air with those whose-it berries…gimson, gypson, gyro…Rose couldn’t remember, her brain refused to engage. Didn’t matter anyway, she thought and leaned her head against the headrest and closed her eyes.

Was it too early for a nap?

“It’s not my fault,” Martha continued. “Queen Elizabeth wasn’t after me. That was all the Doctor’s doing.”

Martha paused and turned to the man in question. Spatula raised, she pointed it at him. “And I’m not so certain the TARDIS has forgiven you for those arrows in Her door, either.”

The Doctor sniffed and snagged a banana. “We have a special bond, the TARDIS and I,” he said haughtily. “There’s no need to forgive.”

Rose snickered and shared a look with Martha. Probably why She stranded them in the past for months on end…twice.

“Who else is on the list?” Rose asked to head off an argument.

“Rupert the Third,” Jack said as he reentered the kitchen. “Jenny promised five minutes. Don’t worry, I made sure the TARDIS timed it.”

“Who’s Rupert the Third?” Donna asked.

“Head of the Earth Republic during the Second Great and Bountiful Human Empire,” the Doctor said just before starting the blender.

“Ah.” Rose shuddered and waited until the blender, much quieter than those she grew up with, stopped.

“Okay. But no satellites,” she warned Jack. And the Doctor. “Last time I was promised the Great and Bountiful Human Empire, I got mobster slimy creatures exploding all over the place. The smell never did come out of that top.”

She wrinkled her nose. No, she wasn’t sorry to see the Jaggafess, whatever, go. But its death opened the door for the Daleks. Or maybe it had always been the front man and the Daleks merely changed their plan with its death.

Rose shivered again and reached for her bond with the Doctor. She didn’t like to think about Daleks. Or the Game Station. Or the power she wielded to destroy an entire race. She still had nightmares of their metallic voices… _ex-term-in-ate_.

Felt alternatively guilty for genocide and not so much for saving the universe. Stopping them before they wiped out the entirety of creation.

Licking her lips, she focused back on Donna. The other woman looked at her, concerned, and reached across the table to clasp her hand. Rose nodded and tried to smile, but only squeezed Donna’s hand.

“Who else?” The words were thick and rough.

“Now that we’ve seen Agatha Christie,” Donna began.

“And you kissed the Doctor,” Jack interrupted. His entire tone dripped innuendo.

“And I saved the Doctor’s life with quick thinking,” Donna injected. “You’re just jealous you weren’t there to kiss him.”

“Yeah,” Jack sighed dramatically. “I am.”

Martha patted his cheek. “There’s always next time.”

Rose sincerely hoped not. Donna had rushed behind the Doctor when he raced to the kitchens, poison running through him. Martha and Jack ran out to look for further clues around the house, and though Jenny stayed with her, Rose hadn’t been able to move as quickly as the non-pregnant persons in their party.

Thank God for Jenny.

By the time Jenny helped her stand and they waddled to the kitchens, Rose missed everything but Donna’s relief. And her hurried explanation of exactly why she kissed Rose’s husband and it hadn’t meant anything—honest.

The Doctor cleared his throat. “Yes, yes, I’m very kissable. We all know this. Let’s move on then, yes?”

Rose laughed and winked at him. He crossed from the counter to the table and sat beside her, took her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist. His touch, as always, sent warmth and need through her, and Rose cupped his cheek.

“How about that poet from Coraopolis?” Rose frowned. “The one with the 19 stanza poems about nature.”

“Shiv,” the Doctor said. “You just like him because he wrote that Ode to Winston.”

“Well, yes,” Rose admitted and settled back when Jack set her smoothie before her. Moments later Martha set a platter of pancakes on the table and Rose eagerly dug in. She hadn’t lied when she said the baby was hungry. They both were.

Jenny joined them a few minutes later and sat next to Donna. She was quiet, not at all her normal self, but when she met Rose’s eyes, she smiled brightly and turned her attention to quizzing Martha on the pancakes.

Relaxed, happy with her family and the prospect of new clothes, Rose ate more than her fair share. It was wonderful when food stayed down. Seriously, she didn’t appreciate that enough.

“What’s the other stack of papers, Donna?” Rose asked as she filled her plate for the second time.

Tomorrow she’d do her pregnancy yoga for twice as long. Really.

“Oh, Shonara dropped off applications for potential employees.” Donna looked up from where she alternated bites of pancake and reading the papers. “Did Captain Magambo sign off on the site?”

“Yeah, we have the go-ahead to begin construction as soon as all applicants pass UNIT’s initial background check. And,” Rose paused and looked to the Doctor. “An alien test designed and carried out by the Doctor.”

“Got that, spaceman?” Donna demanded as the Doctor looked up, startled. “Get to getting on that alien test. We have work to do.”

“Anyone stand out?” Rose asked with a twinge of guilt. She really needed to take more of an interest in their project.

Right now she was so uncomfortable and tired, she doubted she’d be able to complete anything she started.

“A few,” Donna admitted and nodded to the larger pile. “I started with the unemployed. There’s so many. Some of them skilled, some not.”

“Are you going to train them?” Jenny asked with that curious tilt to her head.

“Oh, no,” Donna said immediately. “I know nothing about construction. But I want to give them a chance to work.” She looked down at her plate, voice low. “I know what it’s like not to have steady work.”

Rose squeezed her hand. Since their talk, right after Jenny’s regeneration, Donna seemed to gain more confidence in herself. Not tons, but baby steps. Rose understood that, too.

“What’s the point of a spa?” Jenny asked. “What do you do there? Spa-ing?”

Donna snorted. “No it’s for relaxation.”

Jenny cocked her head to the side again. Rose met the Doctor’s eyes and smiled. Yeah, she did look a little like Rose there, didn’t she. Tuning out Donna’s explanation, Rose rested her head on the Doctor’s shoulder and closed her eyes.

Completely content.


End file.
